The Difference
by Whataman20934
Summary: When Legolas disappears into a treacherous dimension of Middle-earth, the fellowship must save him, but must find a way around a new enemy first. (NO SLASH)
1. By Sheer Accident

**The Differance**

**by**** Leafy**

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by an episode of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.

PS: Thank you, everyone who reviewed my last story! It was wonderful of you! :o) I'll respond more in-depth laer, just want to get this up now. :o)

*              *              *

**Chapter 1**

**'By Sheer Accident'**

"_Why?_" the savage demand bit through the cold foggy air of the morning.

Legolas turned around abruptly at his seat by the fire, looking through the trees for the source of the alarming sound. He was alone in the camp, the others having gone off on various morning errands; finding more firewood, fetching the water, or hunting something for breakfast likely to sustain them all until night. Legolas had been told to relax and wait for the others, that his only job at present was to remain by the fire. He had been doing all of these things, and willingly, up until now. Now, he stood up and, stepping over the rock he'd been sitting on, gazed intently at the trees, waiting to here the noise again.

"_Why?_" the same brutal voice persisted after a pause. It sounded far off, but not too far off. There was another pause, during which Legolas thought he heard another voice trying to respond, though he couldn't be sure, for if it was there, it was interrupted by a strange dull thud, from the same spot, by the sound of it.

Legolas tentatively made his way to the edge of the clearing, his senses alert, straining to hear more. He peered between the trunks, but could see no forms, close by or far away.

"_Tell me!_" the voice continued, and Legolas heard leaves rustling, and then definitely a smaller, somewhat frightened voice. It was stammering and faltering, trying to mount a response to these terrifying commands.

"I--I--" it attempted, but was cut off by another thud, though this one sounded alarmingly like a blow being landed on a vulnerable body.

Without giving a thought to what the fellowship might think if they came back and he wasn't there, Legolas took off in pursuit of the source of the noise. He didn't know who was involved in this fearsome quarrel, but there was a chance that it was one or more of the fellowship, and he felt that he had to help.

Legolas stopped just behind a thin layer of trees outside of the clearing, which proved to be rather far off indeed, where the sounds had been coming from. He could see two males, tall and of obvious Elven build. They were dressed much the same, in dark robes that looked very old. One of them seemed a bit taller than the other, although that might merely have been an illusion caused by his evidently vehement anger, as he backed slightly away in disgust from the other. The other, shorter, elf was leaning against a tree and had turned his head away, indicating to the watchful Legolas that he had, indeed, been struck, right across the face. Legolas frowned. He had obviously stumbled upon a very serious argument, but it was also obviously a private one. As much as he might want to intervene, he didn't know the circumstances of the quarrel, so it was not his place. And yet, he remained where he stood. He sensed some dangerous element in the angry elf, which made him rather uneasy, for the other one's sake.

"How could you?" the taller elf demanded ferociously. "How could you allow this to happen?"

The other elf straightened up from his wounded posture, his face set with animosity and determination. He seemed to be less shocked now, and more angered by the blow, and was evidently determined not to offer the other elf any answers to his fiery questions.

"Tell me!" the taller elf barked again, as if he sensed the uselessness his demands had acquired. He gritted his teeth as he stared hatefully at the other elf, waiting for a response but receiving none.

"Speak!" he leaped forward without warning, knocking the shorter elf in the side of the head with his fist so hard that the recipient fell to the ground.

"Stop!" Legolas exclaimed in spite of himself, bounding into the clearing, alarm in his face.

The tall elf looked up, startled at the sound of another voice. His face melded confusion and anger on spotting Legolas, and he lowered the hand he'd attacked the other elf with.

"Who are you?" he demanded, then his eyes fell on Legolas' bow and quiver, which Legolas had hung on his back and forgotten about long ago. The weapons obviously made the new elf fearful, for some of the anger disappeared from his face, and, almost imperceptibly, he drew a wide, short, flat blade from inside his own robes, holding it just out of sight, or so he thought. "Go away," he continued, a bit unsteadily now, coming over slowly to stand in front of Legolas. "This doesn't concern you."

Of course, Legolas meant to do no such thing at this point. Ignoring the supposedly-hidden weapon he'd pulled out, Legolas glared at the new elf for his presumptuousness, then moved past him and bent down beside the fallen elf, whom, he could now see, was unconscious from the last blow and an old, bulging root that was located just where his head had struck the ground, when he fell. This elf was rather smaller than the other, and no more muscular, and did not seem to have any weapons. Physically speaking, the now-unconscious elf would never have proved to be much of a threat to the bigger elf, unless he had been armed and ready. Legolas straightened up, looking back at the other elf. He didn't like the look of things…

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Go--," the elf began again, fiercely this time, but then started looking at Legolas in a strange way, as if he was just seeing him for the first time. He looked him up and down slowly, the beginnings of a smile of enlightenment forming on his face. His eyes met the prince's. 

"_Ringbearer_," he hissed. 

Before the full meaning of this word hit Legolas, the other elf lunged at him, the knife now in full view. Legolas dodged, but not fast enough, as he was quite surprised by the mostly-unprovoked attack. He felt the blade nick the side of his face near his chin, gliding into his hair, and, by the feel of, cutting into one of his braids. 

**********

Aragorn frowned as he wiped the blade of his sword, looking down at the dead deer at his feet. This had been a lucky find, and would prove very nice for the breakfast the others were anticipating, yet Aragorn couldn't seem to focus on this. There was something very troubling in the air, like there was someone or something evil lurking. This had to be untrue, though, the ranger reasoned as he hoisted the deer off the ground. They had entered this forest last night, and had seen n sign of any living things here, save a few woodland creatures, harmless whether or not one had a weapon. This feeling that had overcome Aragorn must have been just that; a feeling. Nothing more.

Just then, as if the fates wished to contradict him, Aragorn heard an indiscernible, though loud, exclamation of anger, then what sounded like a punch. Then, as if this wasn't enough, he heard Legolas' voice, clear as day, yelling out "Stop!" Without another thought, Aragorn bolted after what he'd been anticipating. The fellowship might have to wait a bit for their breakfast…

**********

Legolas bridled at the unexpected success of the attack, his hand flying to his face. He could feel a shallow cut and a slight amount of warm blood there, as well as a much-shorter braid between the tips of his fingers. He looked at the other elf, repressing shock at this violent gesture, trying to process all of the new information now bombarding him.

He did not know who either of these elves were, where they'd come from, or what they'd been quarreling about, though three things became clear to Legolas, very quickly; this elf before him was evil, he wanted the ring, and he thought that Legolas was in exclusive possession of it.

"The ring…" the elf hissed, as if confirming Legolas' hurried speculations. The assailant lunged for him once more with the knife, but Legolas stepped back jerkily, dodging successfully, but stumbling on something hard and round just by his foot. He looked down to see what looked for all the world like a flask full of light. He noticed that the stopper seemed to have come out when he'd trod on it. 

**********

Breaking through a ring of trees, Aragorn was confronted with three elves; two of them entangled in an obvious fight, one of them lying on the ground. Aragorn's eyes immediately went to the latter, noticing with relief that it wasn't Legolas, but a strange elf, one that Aragorn had never seen before, and who didn't look likely to be a native of these barren woods. One of the other two looked much like the first, apart, of course, from the aspect of unconsciousness, and the third was unmistakeably Legolas, his head turned to the side and his hand at his face, the glint of blood between his fingers. He was, despite the blade-wielding enemy in front of him, looking down at something beside his foot, which Aragorn could not see from where he was standing. The other elf could see it, though, and he backed away in alarm, as Aragorn observed a bright light to expanded from the ground next to Legolas, enveloping the oblivious elf and swelling out, then contracting inwards.

"_Legolas__--_" he cried sharply, stepping forward, but not quickly enough, as Legolas only had time to look at up Aragorn with confusion, before both he and the light abruptly vanished.

**********

The light did not hurt Legolas at all. In fact, there was no sensation to it. He'd barely been able to register what had happened to him before the scene around him had changed so quickly that it disoriented him. He was still standing, but was now on leafless, stony ground, and none of the others were in sight. And, stranger still, as he felt his face, which had suddenly stopped stinging, he could find no trace of the facial wound. Even his braid had been restored to its original length, and was nicely plaited once more. Legolas looked about in surprise, trying to determine where he was and what had happened. 

His strange new location still bore some foliage, and looked familiar, but was obviously not even at all close to the place in which he had done battle with the elf. As Legolas continued looking around, he realized suddenly from its appearance where he must be; the Misty Mountains.

_How in Middle-earth had he gotten all the way to the Misty Mountains? _Legolas began walking, trying to find the edge of the rock on which he stood, trying to find some landmark, somewhere. His mind wandered back to the last things he remembered. He remembered Aragorn's alarmed beckoning, but, more importantly at this point, he remembered the strange light that had enveloped him so surreptitiously that he hadn't noticed it until it was too late. Legolas thought about this agitatedly as he continued walking forward. It had seemed like some kind of magic, and this whole new situation seemed to confirm that it was strange, if not, evil, magic.

Just then, as he reached an incline in the side of the rocks, his eyes locked onto something startling and magnificent on the lower horizon. Down the mountain, and a short way from the base of it, was what looked like a castle. It didn't look very old, but, from where Legolas stood, he could tell that large parts of it had deteriorated into worthlessness and dangerousness, while other parts stood firm, looking pristine, almost untouched.

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the structure. 

~~End of Part 1 


	2. The Wrong Answer

**The Difference**

**by**** Leafy**

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by an episode of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.

First off, I want to thank Sailor Mystic, Raider314, Ainchoiriel, Europa, Marissa, and Tiggivon for your reviews of my last fanfic. They were wonderful to read. :o) Thank you, I'm happy you like how it turned out, and the whole thing. :o)

Enigma Jade: Thanks! I'm glad you like it! :o)

Ecri: Thank you! Yeah, I don't remember much about the episode I'm referencing, but the ideas were interesting, so I thought I'd use them. :o) I'm glad you like it so far, and thanks for the compliment! :o)

Tiggivon: You're back! :o) Yeah, Legolas as ringbearer, not a good assumption. :o) I'm happy you like it so far, hopefully it will continue to be exciting for you. :o) Thank you for the review! :o)

Europa: You're back, too! :o) Thank you for the review, I'm glad you like it. :o)

Onward!! 

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**Chapter 2**

**'The Wrong Answer'**

"What have you _done_?" Aragorn cried, leaping forward, his sword drawn.

"Not a thing," the strange Elf said, keeping his distance, and keeping his knife in plain sight.

Aragorn lunged in fury at this obvious lie, the tip of his sword just managing to graze the Elf's collarbone, before his enemy stumbled back, crying out in alarm and pain. He clamped his hand over the wound and looked down at it as blood seeped through his fingers. He glared back up at Aragorn with a hatred so intense that it startled the ranger, though he couldn't say that the feeling wasn't mutual.

"You'll tell me what you've done, _now_--" Aragorn began with soft animosity. 

"Or what?" the Elf demanded fiercely. "You'll kill me? _Then_, you'll never know." 

As he said this, he stepped past Aragorn, approaching the unconscious Elf, still lying at the base of the tree.

"Leave him," Aragorn demanded quickly, redirecting his sword as the Elf made his way behind the other's head.

The active Elf looked up at Aragorn, swiping his own small, sharp blade through the air and jamming it underneath the other Elf's chin, just in front of his neck.

"Make me," the impudent Elf shot back.

Aragorn looked between the two Elves. He could make no move now, without the cost of the helpless one's life. Knowing this, the Elf smiled cruelly, turning the other Elf around on the ground and beginning to drag him back toward the other side of the clearing, all the while, his eyes remaining fixed on Aragorn, who was able for the other Elf's sake only to watch this escape. His mind was reeling. Legolas was gone, at the hands of an apparently-unstable Elf, and who was this victim? He could not imagine.

As the Elf neared the trees, he glanced down at the ground, meaning to pick up the now-empty, dubious flask there. He stopped moving, though, as his eyes fell on a light patch in the leaves, composed of the fair, wiry hairs he'd sliced from Legolas' head in his earlier attack. At the center of the cluster lay a matching braid, about six inches in length, tied off at one end.

Forgetting the flask, the Elf used his clean, free hand to snatch up the braid, holding it up before Aragorn, dangling it before him mockingly.

"This will have to do," the Elf said sinisterly, "until I bring your corpses back as a trophy, instead. For, a ringbearer is necessary, but a ringbearer _and_ his friend are a bountiful find."

Aragorn opened his mouth to respond to this seemingly-ludicrous statement, but the Elf gained sudden speed, seizing his prisoner by the shoulder once more, and dragging him out of the clearing.

As the murky shadows of the fog and the trees swallowed the Elves from sight, Aragorn bent down, scooped up the empty flask from the ground, then straightened up, turned, and ran out of the clearing the opposite way, back to the camp.

He ran straight back to the camp, though he did not know for sure whether or not he would find the entire rest of the fellowship back by now.

Luckily, he did. Everyone else had come back to the camp, with or without something to serve as breakfast. They all looked up in near-unison as Aragorn burst into the clearing.

"What wrong?" asked Frodo, fearfully noting the expression on Aragorn's face.

Aragorn matched the hobbit's look.

"It's Legolas," he said softly.

**********

_Legolas__ brushed through the trees, moving toward the castle, which was quite close, by now._

_As he got closer to the castle, it began to seem more likely that the building was occupied. Noises of what sounded like speech reached Legolas' ears, and forms seemed occasionally to flit past the upper windows._

_Legolas__ found himself approaching a sturdy side wall, with a small window in it. The shutters were open, but it was dark and silent within. Legolas craned his neck, cautiously peering inside. He strained his eyes, observing a weak, thin light far, far down an invisible hallway._

_Suddenly, a figure appeared, blocking the light altogether, and, before Legolas could move, his upper half was doused with lukewarm, filthy washing water. He stumbled backward, surprised and sputtering. This place was **definitely** occupied…_

_"Oh dear," a female voice sounded suddenly. A middle-aged human woman's face surfaced from the darkness, looking concernedly at Legolas. "I'm sorry…" she began._

_"It's alright," said Legolas, wiping his hand across his eyes._

_"I just didn't **see** you," she said, seeming either to have not heard or to have ignored Legolas' statement. "I suppose I didn't look--"_

_"It's fine," Legolas repeated, looking earnestly at her._

_The woman furrowed her brow in grateful sympathy._

_"What are you doing all the way over here? You **might** come inside."_

_Legolas__ stopped himself from letting the shock register on his face. How hospitable…_

_"Forgive me," he said. "I wasn't sure if there would be a point to doing that."_

_"I don't see why there wouldn't be," the woman replied frankly, drawing her arm, which held an empty, dripping wash basin, up from her side and out of the window. She gestured with the bowl toward what Legolas supposed to be the front of the castle. "Detarmor is on duty now. I believe you may come in."_

_"Thank you," said Legolas, though he did not see why he should know who was "on duty" at the moment. All the same, he turned and made his way briskly in the direction the woman had indicated._

_"Oh, I'd go the long way around," the woman said suddenly. "In case Detarmor changes his mind._

_Further confused, Legolas turned around and walked back past the window, thanking again the woman as he went._

_The back of the castle was relatively uninteresting in appearance, except for the fact that, while the parapets above were filthy, as if quite old, the whole of the wall itself, from top to bottom, was devoid of any and all foliage, as if someone had cleared it all away._

_Turning the corner, Legolas noticed three Elves standing at the far end of the wall, up near the front of the entire structure. They were armed with swords and bows, though they had no armor, only quivers. One of them, obviously sensing Legolas' appearance, looked his way, but the prince ducked quickly back behind the back wall, before he was seen. Despite the woman's odd invitation to go inside, Legolas was more inclined to be wary of strangers, particularly stranger Elves, after his encounter with the one back in the forest. He did not want them knowing he was there just yet._

_Legolas__ placed his hands lightly on the wall next to him for balance as he hid himself once more, and found his fingers resting on the side pole of a stone ladder, hidden against the stone of the wall. Legolas leaned forward. On closer examination, he could see that it was actually built into the side of the castle, though not to obviously, so as not to attract attention. He saw that it led straight up, to the roof of the castle. Without another thought, Legolas gripped the sides of the ladder and climbed noiselessly up, away from the guards._

_The castle was not especially tall, so Legolas had a good view from his new position, but not an altogether safe one. If he leaned down a bit to look, the guards would be little more than arm's reach from him._

_"It's getting colder," one of them murmured, looking about agitatedly._

_"That's in your head, too," another spoke up. Along with 'intruders'. Anyway, don't say anything about the cold to-"_

_"I wasn't going to," the first one interrupted. "Surely, you don't think me **that** unintelligent."_

_"Besides, what can be done about it," the third Elf-guard added._

_"Nothing," the first one agreed sullenly. "But, there's nothing to take our minds off of it, either."_

_"Do you **want** there to be?" the second Elf asked._

_"Not especially," the first one admitted. "Only, I--"_

_Suddenly, Legolas realized that it had lately begun to snow, the small, delicate white puffs silently descending._

_"Brilliant," the first Elf muttered, extending his hand to catch the falling flakes. He glanced up to see how much it was snowing yet, and Legolas knew he'd been discovered._

_Getting rid of the few flakes that had accumulated there, the Elf stepped forward nad clamped his hand down on the shoulder of the guard closest to him._

_"Look," he said, his gaze fixed on the spot where Legolas had just been._

_"You," the guard called, "who are you? What are you doing up there?"_

_Not much in the mood for a game of hide-and-seek, Legolas straightened up slowly, moving into full view._

_"Forgive me," he faltered, slightly embarassed. "I--I saw the ladder. My curiosity got the better of me. I did not mean to spy on you."_

_"Who are you?" the first Elf demanded, still mildly hostile, but much encouraged by the friendliness Legolas had displayed._

_"I am Legolas," answered Legolas, not knowing what else might be useful to add. "Son of Thranduil."_

_The expressions on the faces of the Elves below Legolas changed to a mixture of being distressed and being insulted._

_"Who?" the guard repeated.___

_"Legolas," said Legolas, sensing trouble._

_The second Elf stepped forward, looking up critically at the prince._

_"Come down here," he said._

_Legolas__ complied with this command, partly because of the civility with which it was made, but mostly because all three of the others seemed most effectively armed, and Legolas wanted no bloodshed, if he could avoid it._

_Two of the guards made their way to the base of the ladder as Legolas descended to the lightly-powdered earth. They looked at him questioningly._

_"Come with us," one of them said. "Lord Frodo will want to see **you**."_

_~~End of Part 2_


	3. Imprisonment

**The Difference**

**by**** Leafy**

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by an episode of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9. 

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Cheysuli: Thanks for the review! 'Oh dear' is right! :o)

Raider314: Good to hear from you again! :o) I hope you're enjoying this. Yeah, I barely remember the ep I'm referencing, so even if you had seen it, it still might not be very close. Thanks for the review! :o)

Enigma Jade: Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying this! Yeah, a definite twist. And more to come. :o) Thanks again!

D-eyes: Thank you for the review! It was very nice. :o) I'm glad you like this story. Yeah, Legolas as Ringbearer is definitely a dangerous assumption. :o) Thanks again! 

-----

 Onward!!

*              *              *

**Chapter 3**

**'Imprisonment'**

Gandalf studied the flask in his hands with concerned puzzlement.

"In every outward way, it appears only to be a flask," he said quietly. "Nothing more."

"It may be," said Aragorn, "but _light_ came out of it."

"I don't doubt that it did," Gandalf replied dolefully. "And I don't doubt that it means something. However, no trace here remains of whatever it was."

Aragorn sat down in frustration, glaring at the ground.

"That Elf is dangerous," he said. "Violent. He's like no other Elf I've ever seen," Aragorn looked back up at the others. "And he said something strange--I believe he's under the impression that Legolas has the Ring."

Worry changed to horrified guilt on Frodo's face, and he stepped forward. 

"We've got to find him," said the hobbit emphatically, though he couldn't help but feel like he was stating the obvious.

"Yes, of course," said Gandalf commendingly, standing up, still holding the flask. "Aragorn, can you lead us back to the clearing where you found this?"

"With certainty," the ranger responded, rising also.

***

After assessing the clear himself, Frodo thought it hopeless, that they were going to find Legolas, or anything useful to his recovery, there.

Aragorn identified the exact spot where he had seen Legolas vanish, but it was completely unextraordinary from the rest of the clearing. Looking at it, Gandalf appeared to come no closer to figuring out what the Elf had used on Legolas.

"It's no use," said Frodo woefully, looking behind him at the trees on the edge of the clearing. They all seemed the same, from where he stood. "There's nothing here."

"Not anymore," said Gandalf, turning his head to the side, to look where Frodo was looking. The wizard straightened up suddenly, and set off out of the clearing. "Come," he called back to the others, as if he was onto something.

Apparently, the wizard was onto something. He appeared to be following a trail, and a complicated one, at that. The rest of the present fellowship followed in silence, wondering if he had found something that the rest of them had missed.

Weaving and winding through the forest, the fellowship followed Gandalf, finally coming to the end of it, to a long field of knee-length grass. At the far end of it lay a strange, out-of-place cluster of trees. Gandalf paused where he stood, gazing at the trees further off, a glimmer of satisfaction appearing briefly in his eyes.

He continued on to the puzzling area, breaking through the tree with the rest of the party.

The space inside of the trees was quite large, the perhaps of a large town square. In the center of the space was set a strange structure. It was made of wood, slopped together with mud, but it seemed important, like a castle.

Gandalf stepped forward, looking for an entrance.

As he did so, there was a sudden hiss, and an arrow shot down, lightly pinning the hem of Gandalf's cloak to the ground. The wizard stepped to the side, looking down a it in surprise, then up, to find his aerial assailant. Before he could locate him, or any of the others could do anything, though, three more arrows fell, barely missing their targets, and a sizable group of Elves, whom Aragorn noted looked much like the Elves he'd encountered in the clearing, slid down the trunks of the trees all around them, drawing swords and closing in on the fellowship as they hit the ground. 

The fellowship drew their weapons as well, but kept still, as they were obviously greatly outnumbered.

One of the hostile ones came forward, walking past Aragorn, then bent down and plucked an arrow, which had scraped the hilt of Aragorn's sword, out of the ground. He held it up, turning back to the ranger.

"Practice makes perfect," he said simply, then repositioned himself before his own comrades.

"Who are you?" asked Aragorn severely.

"I believe I should be the one asking you that," the Elf replied. "And what you are doing here. Make it quick."

Aragorn merely looked at his enemy. What could he say, that wouldn't anger them further? It would do them no good to have a battle to deal with.

"Have you forgotten?" the Elf continued cynically, looking about at the rest of the fellowship. "Perhaps Norgeth will be able to refresh your memory."

So saying, the Elf stepped forward with his men, to take the fellowship into custody. The leader seized Aragorn firmly by the arm. Aragorn drew his sword, prepared now for defense, but a glance in Gandalf's direction told him that he mustn't provoke them here, now. These beings would probably have no qualms about slaughtering the lot of them right there, outside their palace.

***

Norgeth turned out to be the same Elf whom Aragorn had wounded back in the clearing with Legolas.

"Take their weapons," Norgeth said, after briefly studying his visitors. "I want to be able to _trust_ them."

Aragorn looked at him with full animosity as a guard pulled his sword away.

"Have you come for Emblethor?" Norgeth inquired from the slightly-elevated space on the floor where he stood, a few paces away from the fellowship. "I'm afraid there's no point to it, now."

"Who?" Aragorn asked, somewhat defiantly.

Norgeth's eyebrows raised in true surprise, but his voice maintained its glib tone.

"You don't know?" he asked. "Surely, at the very least, you should know the name of the one for whom you risked your very life."

Aragorn realized that Norgeth must have been referring to the victimized Elf he'd dragged away from the clearing. The full meaning of the Elf's statement hit him, then. _"I'm afraid there's no point to it, now."_ That could only mean that this Emblethor was dead…

Aragorn glanced at Gandalf, who was studying Norgeth with subtle abhorrence. He understood, as well.

Aragorn quickly added things up in his mind. If Norgeth had meant to kill Emblethor, which he obviously had, than that may have been the purpose of the flask, or more specifically, the contents of the flask, which had claimed Legolas.

"We seek another," Frodo's voice sounded suddenly. 

Aragorn looked up in surprise as the hobbit stepped toward the Elf, looking up stoutly at Norgeth, who looked annoyed.

"A comrade of ours," Frodo continued, unhindered. "An Elf. We believe you know where he is."

"Do you?" Norgeth began bemusedly, then stopped. He began eyeing Frodo, with the same look that, if Aragorn had been in the clearing before Legolas was attacked, he would have recognized as the same one that Norgeth had given Legolas at his accusation of "ringbearer". Norgeth leaned forward slowly.

"What about you?" Norgeth asked Frodo softly. "Do you know where the ring is?" 

Almost unnoticeably, the Elf reached out gradually, his right hand making its way forward, toward Frodo's shirt collar. Frodo looked down at it warily.

Suddenly, apparently unable to contain himself any longer, Sam, who'd been standing next to Frodo, sprang forward, shoving Norgeth forcefully away. He didn't have enough strength to completely bowl the Elf over, but he did make him stumble back most effectively. Norgeth recovered himself, looking at Sam with hatred.

"Impudent little--" he began, stepping forward as Sam came forward as well, glaring at him dangerously, his fists at the ready. Norgeth smirked a little, stepping back. 

"Take them away," he commanded his guards, still looking mockingly at them. "Take them all away. They trouble me."

********** 

_Legolas__ allowed his face to register the shock at hearing "Lord Frodo", but was ushered inside by the two guards, and received an even bigger shock, before he could say anything about it._

_The foyer of the castle was the throne room, with no hallway leading to it. There were three equally-sized, plain thrones at the back of the room, and a round, aged carpet just before them. There was no one seated at the center throne, or the one on the right, but there was a small figure perched on the one of the left. On seeing Legolas and the two others enter, it stirred, getting off the throne and making its way hurriedly forward. As the figure came into focus, Legolas saw that it was a hobbit. A very familiar-looking hobbit._

_"**Merry**?" the prince gasped, as he halted before them._

_This hobbit, who seemed in every physical way to be Merry, though perhaps a bit of an older Merry, had appeared more and more distressed as he came down to meet them, staring at Legolas. However, he seemed to become more distressed than ever at the mention of his name._

_"Who are you?" the hobbit demanded tensely._

_"Legolas," one of the guards answered for him, sounding meaningful. "We found him wandering about outside, my Lord. We thought that Lord Frodo would want to see him."_

_Without hesitation, Merry reached up and, with surprising strength, pulled the Elf-guard down to eye level._

_"Have you gone mad?" he whispered, obviously trying to prevent Legolas from hearing. He was unsuccessful. "What would **happen**?" he continued harshly, though still softly. "Get rid of him," he ordered, then released the Elf, allowing him to straighten up with dignity, once more._

_Legolas__ looked at his new captors with alarm, as one each seized his arms, steering him toward a small side doorway._

_"What have I done?" Legolas asked, bewildered._

_"Trespassed," one of the guards muttered, after a pause. "On land where you do not belong." _

_***_

_After they departed from the throne room, the guards released Legolas' arms, probably because escape from the two of them, in the dark and narrow hallway they were now all traversing, would be impossible, due to the cramped conditions and the fact that his weapons were confiscated the moment he'd been hauled out of the throne room, before he could collect himself enough to do much to prevent it._

_At the end of the hall was a small, bare room with three doorways in the opposite wall. There was another Elf in this room, sitting in a chair in the corner, as if on guard. It occurred to Legolas then that the oddly friendly woman he'd met through the window had probably mistaken him for one of the palace's guards, instead of recognizing him as a stranger. This, he attributed to the fact that he, himself was an Elf, and the castle's guard appeared to be solely comprised of Elves._

_The two guards escorting Legolas (if it could be called that) led him through the center passage, completely ignoring the other Elf in the room. The two led Legolas down another dark hall, though there was a distinct, yellowish light at the end of this one. As they drew nearer to it, Legolas saw that it was the opening to the kitchens, as there were what had to be visible food stains on the wall in front of him, and the clanging of pots and slopping of water could be here. Suddenly, the woman who had bathed Legolas outside appeared briefly in the doorway, carrying a large, tarnished pot with both hands. She moved quickly past, straining not to drop her burden. At her heels scurried a young female halfling. She was carrying as many potatoes as she could hold in her apron, obviously preparing to join the woman in making dinner._

_Legolas__ frowned as the guards pressed him forward. Were they going to put him to work?_

_Apparently not.__ Very abruptly and almost unexpectedly, one of the Elves grabbed Legolas roughly by the shoulders and turned him off to the side, to a small, square door in the wall. It was quite near to the floor. If it hadn't been pointed out to him, Legolas probably would have missed it._

_One of the guards stooped down, drawing a key out of some pocket. Legolas counted five locks, as the guard stuck his key into each one, twisting it. Just as he finished, the other Elf knelt down, extracted his own key, and performed the same task, on the same locks. After he'd finished this lengthy chore, the guard inserted the tips of his fingers into the nonexistent space between the door's edges and the wall. He pulled the door out, like the lid of a well, moving out of the way._

_"In there," the other guard told Legolas, gesturing with the sword the prince had not seen him pull out._

_Legolas__ looked at him, stunned. They were really going to do this…_

_"But--" Legolas faltered. "But, I don't understand. Why are you imprisoning me?"_

_"For **trespassing**," the Elf snapped angrily, then leaned forward, as if divulging a dangerous secret. "Besides, this is better than the alternative," he said softly, earnestly. The other Elf nodded a little behind him, looking at Legolas as if he was trying to identify with him. Legolas was only more confused._

_"What alternative?" he chanced._

_The Elf who'd spoken pursed his lips in annoyance now. He jabbed at the open doorway at his feet._

_"Get in," he said, truly serious._

_Knowing resistance would only result in trouble, Legolas obeyed, climbing in and turning around to look at the guards as they replaced the door. He could think of something to do about this better if he was alone._

_But apparently, he wasn't alone. As soon as the light was shut out of the space he'd just crawled into, Legolas realized there was someone else there, behind him. He turned on his heels, straightening up until he was only bent over a bit at the waist, as this was as far as he could straighten up with bumping into the stone ceiling._

_"Who's there?" he demanded sharply, looking about in the dim light. _

_There was a crash, and Legolas saw a small form fall to the floor, from some perch in the corner of the room, up on the wall. It landed flat on its face._

_The figure recovered itself, straightening up to stand at full height, hobbit-height. Legolas could tell now that it was a male hobbit, but it held its hand before its face, as though injured. If it hadn't been for this, Legolas might have been able to tell who it was, right then._

_Snorting a little, the hobbit rubbed his hand gently on his face, then drew it away, looking half sheepishly, half disgusted at Legolas. Legolas gasped. _

_This creature before him, this hobbit, had done something nasty to his nose when he fell, for a little blood trickled out of it, running down to his chin. But this was not at all the shock that Legolas received when he looked at his face. Though it was hard and hostile, there was still a bit of an enduring, optimistic hopefulness left there, very familiar to Legolas._

_"**Sam?**" _

_~~End of Part 3_


	4. Much Discussion

**The Difference**

**by**** Leafy**

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by an episode of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9. 

Responses to all my wonderful reviewers:

Enigma Jade: Thanks! I'm happy you think this is exciting. Wait'll you see what's in store, this chapter. Major plot twists! Thanks again!:o)

Europa: I wanted to apologize for missing commenting on your review last time. I read it, and thought I'd commented on all of them, but realized that I'd missed you just before I got your new review. Sorry! Anyway, I did read it, and it was good to read. Thank you! :o) And, in response to your new review, yes, Sam imprisoned is hard to believe, but it will be explained better in this chapter. :o) Thanks for the reviews!

Marissa: Hello!! You're back! Very glad!! Okay, so, responding to your questions: What is the "alternative" the guards spoke of? You'll find out, not in this chapter, but soon. Why is everyone so touchy? You'll find out. Why doesn't anybody recognize Lego? You'll find out. "Lord Frodo"? Uhm…::nervously eyes the formidable-looking muses congregating behind Marissa:: :o)…I'd better not say. Thank you for the review, it was wonderful! :o) Hope you're liking this! (And trust me, you _will find out everything, eventually! :o))_

Ecri: Aww, shucks. :o) Thanks so much, your review was very kind, great to read. Did you know, you are the first person ever to comment on something Merry has done, in either of my stories? :o) Pretty cool, huh? I'm glad you're liking this! Thanks!

Onward!  

*              *              *

**Chapter 4**

**'Much Discussion'**

Aragorn sat in a dingy corner of the cell, nursing a hand that had been sliced painfully deep across the top, in his imprisonment. He and the others had resisted, of course, though in vain. They were now all imprisoned, in the dank stone underbelly of the wooden structure. The building had not looked very formidable on the outside, the mud-mortar giving it the appearance that a particularly drawn-out thunderstorm might bring it down. The prison underneath was a different story.

It was made entirely of stone, from the floor, to the walls, to the ceiling. There were no windows and an impassible door where bars should have been, so there was subsequently very little light. It was only when their eyes had adjusted to the dimness that the fellowship could see anything at all.

Not that there was much to see in the cell. There was nothing to sit on but the floor, nothing at all in the cell, aside from a few small rocks, scattered about on the floor, which only made finding a comfortable place to sit, difficult.

The only fortunate thing about their new environment was that it was very large, so none of them bumped into each other as they settled, blinded by the darkness, into their own areas of the cell, to nurse their wounds and mull the new situation over.

"What do we do now?" asked Frodo, at length.

Aragorn was silent. He honestly didn't know, though he didn't want to admit it. If he admitted that he could see no solution, no way to escape, surely this would do nothing but destroy whatever hope any of them might still retain.

"We'll have to wait until they open that door again," Aragorn said finally. "Or, perhaps we can find a way out elsewhere, in a wall--"

"There is no secret way out," an unfamiliar voice said suddenly. "There is no way out at all."

Aragorn started, looking off into the darkness, toward the voice.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

He heard someone stir at these words, getting up at the far wall slowly, as if they'd been sitting for a long time. Aragorn rose defensively.

As the figure approached him, Aragorn could see that it was rather short. Drawing nearer, its face became distinguishable, and he recognized it as the face of the unconscious Elf he'd seen back in the clearing, dragged away by Norgeth. 

"Don't worry," Emblethor said, looking with true camaraderie at Aragorn. "I won't hurt you, even if I could."

"What are you doing here?" Aragorn asked, a bit more relaxed, now. 

"Who are you?" Merry interrupted, standing up blindly.

"Emblethor," Aragorn and Emblethor said simultaneously. 

"The Elf that I told you was captured," Aragorn continued, looking off in the hobbit's direction.

"Yes," Merry responded, recalling Norgeth's words back up at the court. "I remember now."

Aragorn redirected his attention to the Elf.

"Norgeth put me here," Emblethor began. "Norgeth--you've met him?"

"Yes," said Aragorn quickly, not wanting any further description of the nefarious being, at the moment.

"He put me here," Emblethor continued. "You see, he knows about the Ruling Ring. He knows your friend has it--"

"Who?" Aragorn interrupted. "Which friend?"

"The Elf," Emblethor replied, as if it should be obvious. "Legolas."

"Legolas doesn't have the Ring," Frodo said suddenly, despairingly. "_I_--" he paused, faltering. "We don't know where it is, now."

"Don't you?" Emblethor looked a bit skeptically at Frodo, who shrank back, though he couldn't see the Elf's expression very well. "That won't be well for your friend, when Norgeth finds out. It won't be well for any of you."

"I don't know that Legolas has to worry about that any longer," Frodo responded with soft sadness.

"Where is he?" Emblethor asked, coming closer to the hobbit.

Frodo looked toward Aragorn for help.

"He was--claimed," the ranger responded. "By some evil magic. A light--"

"From the flask?" Emblethor interrupted him.

"Yes," Aragorn said, looking at the Elf with surprise. "Do you know what it was?"

"Yes," Emblethor responded, looking down at the floor with a bit of shame. "It was a healing portal. I made it."

"_You_ made it?" Aragorn exclaimed, further shocked. "Why?" 

"It was for you," Emblethor said softly, not looking up. "To get rid of the rest of you, so that Norgeth would have no trouble getting to the Ring."

"So, Legolas is dead?" Frodo barely managed to speak the statement, his eyes welling up.

"No," said Emblethor quickly. "The portal I made--a healing portal, more specifically--doesn't kill those who are claimed by it. It transports them to a different, often dangerous reality, from the one they live in. But the transfer cannot kill them. In fact, it does quite the opposite. It rejuvenates them, hence the name. And, they'll need their strength, to survive wherever they've been placed."

"If you did this," Aragorn stated as the Elf finished, "if you were helping Norgeth get rid of us, what are you doing _here_?"

Emblethor looked back up at Aragorn.

"I wasn't helping him," he said. "There is a different kind of portal, one that is lethal on transport, that he wanted me to make for you. I didn't want to kill you though, so I made the healing portal instead. It looked very much like the one he wanted, and I hoped he wouldn't notice the difference. But he did."

"And that is what you were quarreling about," Gandalf stated softly from his corner.

"If you could call it a quarrel," Emblethor smiled a bit in the direction of the wizard. "I'm no match for Norgeth."

"But you know magic, and he does not," said Gandalf, drawing the flask from the clearing, again ignored by the enemy, from inside cloak. He held it out to the Elf, smiling.

Emblethor came forward, reaching out for the flask. He smiled as well, as he pulled out the stopper and put his hand over the opening in the top. Almost instantly, the round glass body of the bottle began to glow, filling with a harmless, helpful light. Emblethor replaced the stopper, setting the flask in the center of the cell, evenly dispersing the light so that everyone could much better see their surroundings.

"So, Emblethor," Gandalf continued, both hearty and respectful, "do you know a way to reverse the portal that has claimed our Elven comrade?"

"Yes," Emblethor responded, pleasant but hesitant. "Though, to bring Legolas back, I will need something of him."

"What do you mean?" asked Frodo.

"Something of his physical self," Emblethor explained. "Blood, or hair, or something of that nature."

At the mention of hair, Aragorn immediately remembered the light little patch of strands that he'd seen on the floor, seemingly all that was left of Legolas. And he remembered the braid at the center, pristinely woven, but lopped off at one end, then snatched up by the calloused hands of Norgeth, who dangled it before him like a piece of meat was dangled before a hungry dog.

"I know where we can find something," Aragorn said, narrowing his eyes at the memory.

**********

_Sam looked suspiciously at Legolas, at the mention of his name. He glanced down, wiping his hand on his ragged, filthy clothes, then looked back up at Legolas._

_"Who are you?" he asked with quiet dislike._

_"You don't know me?" Legolas was surprised. "I'm Legolas, your comrade in the fellowship."_

_As he said these words, Legolas realized that this might not help explain who he was, as it had become obvious to him that this was either some place in the future Middle-Earth, or it was an entirely different dimension of Middle-Earth, one where, perhaps, the fellowship had never existed._

_"You can't be," Sam said tonelessly, turning away and heading back to his corner. "Legolas is dead."_

_Legolas__ stood silent, his mouth slightly open, unable to speak for shock at this news._

_"But--," he said finally, "but, I'm **here." **_

_"That doesn't make you Legolas," Sam responded, sitting down to face the Elf. "I saw Legolas die."_

_"That doesn't make me dead," Legolas said tentatively, sitting down also, as he was growing tired of bending over._

_Sam had no response to this. He looked away, off toward the wall of the small, dark cell._

_"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked, finally._

_"Trespassing," Legolas responded vaguely, his mind now on other things. "What about you? After I heard of Lord Frodo, you became the last one I'd expect to find here."_

_Sam looked slightly pained at the mention of Frodo's name._

_"Yes," he said heavily. "He's just full of surprises."_

_"Why were you put here?" Legolas asked again, gently._

_Sam blinked hard, still not meeting his eye._

_"It's a long tale to tell," he mumbled._

_"I've got time," Legolas patiently responded._

_Sam paused, seeming both to be considering and remembering._

_"I suppose you know about the Ring," he said eventually._

_"I know of it," said Legolas. "But, judging by what I know of this place, perhaps you should tell me what happened to it."_

_Sam grunted._

_"Frodo kept it," he muttered. "He tried to destroy it once, with the fellowship, which you seem to know of. Then, suddenly, he changed his mind. He said that he believed evil wouldn't be destroyed, if we got rid of the Ring. He said that new, greater evil would only surface, too great for us to annihilate. He said that we should keep the ring, and wield it. His argument was that, if we were the ones in power, we could keep enemies at bay, totally preventing a greater threat. He **said he'd had a revelation. But he was lying," Sam broke off then, shuddering back the tears, and the painful memories.**_

_Legolas__ leaned forward a bit, shocked by what he'd heard and saddened by what he saw._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"He changed his mind because Legolas was dead, and he felt responsible," Sam spoke clearly now, and angrily, looking Legolas straight in the eye. "He gave up."_

_Legolas__ started back. He was stunned speechless, unable to think of what to ask Sam first. Some many bewildered questions were floating in his mind now._

_"Why—did Frodo blame himself for Legolas' death?" Legolas asked after a pause._

_Sam looked at the floor. _

_"Because he died battling a band of orcs, who were tracking us because of the Ring. He got between Frodo and an orc-spear," Sam whispered, tears dropping silently down his face, dotting the dusty floor._

_Legolas__ was silent._

_"I suppose he felt worse, because Legolas was a stranger to him, before the quest. If it hadn't been for the Ring, he wouldn't have died," Sam continued softly. "But Frodo didn't see it that way. Frodo thought that, if it hadn't been for **him, Legolas wouldn't have died."**_

_"But then—" Legolas asked, "why did he not see fit to destroy the Ring?"_

_"**I don't know!" Sam burst out, not angry, but sad, and exasperated with the eternal question. "I think he just gave up, gave in to the Ring. He began to act as if he had, as we traveled, not back to Rivendell, but over the **__Misty__Mountains__, at his command. He became distrustful of everyone, desolate…and he began shouting at me angrily, whenever I spoke to him," Sam looked up at Legolas. "Understand, I still said that he should destroy the Ring. The others had given up trying to convince him long ago, perhaps beginning to be affected by the Ring, as well. And, with Gandalf gone—"_

_"Why was Gandalf gone?" Legolas asked suddenly, alarmed._

_"He disappeared, after it became clear what was happening to Frodo. I thought he was going to get help—Elves, or more wizards, or something—but he never returned. After we stopped, at the base of the Mountains, and it became known what Frodo had done, there were great battles for the Ring, battles which eventually destroyed Saruman, and seemed to have destroyed Sauron, or at least weakened him into submission. The battles never involved Frodo, or any of those who decided to follow him, but the greater enemies, trying to get rid of each other, before pursuing the Ring. It was in this time that most believed that Frodo really knew what he was doing. But I didn't. I never believed it. I should have left Middle-Earth, like so many were doing, going over the sea, but I stayed," Sam made a choking noise then. "I wanted to stay with Frodo. I wanted to help him. But, the more I tried, the less it seemed to help. Frodo grew to hate me," he ended on a quiet note, staring down at his feet._

_"That's why you're here," Legolas said._

_"Yes," Sam said. "And here, I won't mind staying."_

_He looked back up at Legolas, studying him, searching his face. _

_"Who are you, really?" he asked._

_Legolas__ opened his mouth to make the obvious response once more, but then closed his mouth, looking back toward the sealed-up hatch he'd been ordered to climb through._

_"I'm lost," he replied._

_~~End of Part 4      _


	5. A Course of Action

**The Difference**

**by**** Leafy**

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by an episode of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9. 

Thank you for the wonderful reviews, everybody! :o)

Crystal Millenium: Thanks! I really don't remember much at all about the ep that I'm referencing, except that someone (Bashir, I think) was somehow transported to a dark version of DS9, or something like that. The aspect of Lego being long dead in one dimension, but still alive in another also comes from DS9, from what I think was the same episode (the character there having been Jennifer, Sisko's wife). I hope that helps, because I can't recall much about the episode (or episodes) for the life of me. :o) Also, Norgeth's twisted logic will be made clear in this chapter, and you will soon see what Frodo's reaction will be to Legolas. :o) Thanks for the review!

Ecri: Thanks for the compliments! I'm glad you like how this is going. That was a very nice review you gave me. :o) Thanks again!

Marissa: Hello again!! You (and your muses) will hopefully be happy to know that I can answer one of your questions right now. ::smiles nervously at the muses:: No, Norgeth and his goons are not from the dimension Legolas is now in. They're just a bunch of wierdos. Most of your other questions should be answered in this part. Thanks for the review! :o) 

Onward!!

*              *              *

**Chapter 5**

**'A Course of Action'**

"How can we be sure that Norgeth still has the braid?" Frodo asked, leaning in at its mention.

"He treated it a s trophy of battle--I'm sure that he won't simply throw it away," Aragorn responded, from the corner he now stood in.

"Of course, we must first find a way out of _here_," Merry muttered, looking about at the seemingly-unyielding walls around him.

"I may be able to help with that," Emblethor spoke up, approaching the far wall, which was joined to Aragorn's corner. 

Aragorn left his position to stand by the Elf, looking over his shoulder at a patch on the wall. The patch was about as big as the opening of large barrel, and was located near the floor. It stood out, slightly lighter in color that the rest of the wall. Emblethor gestured toward it.

"That part of the wall is weakening," he explained. "It is still too strong to be brought down by main force, but magic may prevail against it. I have tried; my magic alone is not enough, but--," Emblethor broke off, slowly looking back towards Gandalf, who listened intently from where he sat.

Aragorn looked back also, unsure. Gandalf's staff had been confiscated (though not easily) in their capture, and the wizard had now seemed quite drained by the resistance they'd put up. Whether or not he was even physically able to help at this point was no matter of certainty.

Still, Gandalf seemed little perturbed. He rose as Emblethor looked at him, and came to stand beside the Elf, facing the wall. He put his hand on the Elf's shoulder, as if strength and magic was expected to flow between them, in this link, and a wispy mist, illuminated only by the flask in the middle of the room, exuded from Emblethor's hand, which he had positioned in front of the wall.

Gradually, the mist built up, surrounding the area of the wall in question, but going nowhere else in the room. The spell looked to be putting no strain on either Emblethor or Gandalf, at this point. It seemed indeed that all that had been preventing Emblethor from making an escape well before now, was a need for the help of another magical being.

At long last, when the mist was so thick that it looked like a suspended wall of cotton close in front of the patch on the wall, Gandalf and Emblethor said some soft words together, which sounded as if they might have been in some dialect of Elvish, but as they were both speaking different words, it was unclear. As they finished speaking, though, the mist lifted, disappearing into the air like steam from over a cooking pot. 

Aragorn, who had backed up to give the magically-inclined ones room, came forward again, in amazement. Exactly where the light, weakened patch had been, was a hole, in the exact shape and size of the patch. It led off into darkness.

Emblethor stepped back, a smile of vengeful triumph on his face.

"What now?" Aragorn said finally, looking back over at the Elf.

Emblethor looked at him, maintaining the smile, though it was now much friendlier. 

"I'll go," he said lightheartedly. "I know this place well, and will be able to find Norgeth's chamber easily. He keeps all things dear to him in there, and I am certain that is where he has put the braid."

***

Norgeth sat in his chair by the wall just inside the castle, a growing headache of misinformation cluttering his mind.

What was all of this business with the Ring? The Elf, Legolas, had it--that much, he knew. Or at least, that much, he thought he knew. He'd heard tell of the fellowship that was taking the Ring to its destruction, and it seemed obvious to him that Legolas had it. Norgeth could think of no one more capable of the destroying the Ring, then an Elf. And, while he had heard some rumors (surely meant to throw Ring-pursuers like himself off the scent) of a Halfling acting as the Ringbearer, he knew that this could not be true. Reckless words like those were for the sole purpose of distracting those who wanted the Ring from the one who truly had it. 

But Norgeth couldn't ignore what had happened in this room, not very long ago. When that little Halfling, whom he had presumed to be but a servant to the men on their quest, had stepped forward to speak, looking earnestly into his eyes, Norgeth had felt something strange--as if the Ring was much closer than he'd thought.

For indeed, he thought he'd very well lost the Ring, when he lost Legolas to the portal. He hadn't even been able to figure out a solution for that, before he was confronted with this new idea, that, perhaps, the rumors he'd heard weren't rumors at all.

Groaning slightly, Norgeth stood up.

"I'm leaving," he said vaguely to a guard, just inside the front doorway. "I shan't come back until tomorrow, unless there is some great emergency."

Not waiting for a response, Norgeth left the throne room, making his way down the darkened hall, toward his chamber. He could think much better in private…

***

"It's easy--I'll just go in, fetch the braid, and come back. I know where Norgeth keeps all of his possessions in that room, so it should not take me enough time for worry."

"Supposing he comes in and finds you," Sam suggested nervously, looking at Emblethor with near-reverence, and much concern.

"He won't retire until this evening, hours from now," Emblethor said simply, turning and climbing easily into the hole. "I can waste no more time, though. If a guard were to come in and see this hole, it would be ruinous."

Frodo came swiftly to the opening as Emblethor disappeared into the darkness of the hallway leading out of the prison. 

"Good luck," the hobbit called softly, not really wishing for him to hear. "Be careful."

**********

_"I'm truly sorry, I just can't believe you," Sam said, slumping back against the wall in exhaustion from the energy he'd spent trying to tell this strange Elf that Legolas was dead, that he **could not** be Legolas._

_"Well, that's alright," Legolas replied, a touch dismayed.__ "At least you understand that I am not hostile."_

_"I don't even fully believe that," Sam said, though he sounded as if he didn't want to go into it. "I've merely been trying to stay off the subject, perhaps build up some trust between us, because it would be all too easy for you make an end for me here. And, despite the fact that I don't mind living here, I **would** mind **dying** here." _

_"Very well," said Legolas, now only weary from debate. "Believe what you like about me; I tell you nothing but the truth."_

_Sam grunted again, and they both fell silent for a while, considering their situation._

_"I must try to see Frodo," Legolas said at length._

_"**What?**" Sam looked up sharply. "Why?"_

_"Most obviously, because I wish to go back where I came from, and I won't do it, sitting here," Legolas replied. "But also--"_

_"He won't let you go, if you're a trespasser," Sam interrupted him. "He'll turn you over to Detarmor, and then, you'll be lucky if you are returned to this cell."_

_"But I've done nothing wrong," Legolas began. "Clearly, the only reason I was put here was--"_

_"That won't matter to Detarmor," Sam interrupted him again, speaking like he had urgent news to convey. "He's heartless, cruel."_

_Legolas__ paused, looking with surprise at the hobbit._

_"Why should Frodo keep someone of that character in his employment?"_

_"He doesn't know he's 'of that character'," Sam responded, the emotions of frustration and anguished disappointment beginning to resurface in him. "He just thinks he's a bit ruthless--the perfect character, to be in charge of the palace guard."_

_"What makes him so ruthless?" Legolas asked. "Would he have me killed?" This must've been the "alternative" the other guards had spoken to Legolas of, before shutting him away._

_"He'd like you to think that's what he'll do. But truly, death-threats remain mere threats, here. Frodo does not allow executions. An act of **benevolence**, I believe," Sam muttered, a bit sarcastic. _

_Legolas__ paused, assessing this new information. He rose._

_"If Detarmor cannot kill me, then there seems still to be no danger in presenting myself to Frodo," he said simply._

_"There **is**," Sam insisted, jumping to his feet, as well. "You do not want to get involved with Detarmor; he's dangerous, even without the ability to kill. Everyone fears Detarmor, everyone submits to his will. Everyone but Frodo. And that's only because Detarmor leaves him alone, waiting for his weak moments, to persuade him to do things he would not do, with or without the Ring. It was Detarmor who suggested that Frodo have me put here. Detarmor desires the Ring more than any of the others do," Sam looked desperately at Legolas, then sat down to look pleadingly into his face._

_Legolas__ looked away, back toward the door again._

_"You are trying to convince me to stay here," he said softly, gently explaining himself. "Yet, every word you say further convinces me that I must leave this cell, and speak with Frodo, to tell him what has happened to me, and what is happening to him. I will take whatever chances I have to."_

_Sam sat back against the wall, sighing miserably._

_"It's your decision," he said finally, though he did not seem any more eager to have him leave. "I can't force you to stay here, any more than I can force myself out."_

_Legolas__ smiled a bit at the hobbit._

_"I mean to get you out of here," he said. "That is another reason for my wanting to leave here."_

_"Well, don't go just on my account," Sam mumbled as Legolas turned back to the door, making his way over. _

_It was obvious to Legolas that breaking out of the cell (which didn't seem like it would be easy to do) would do him no good. If he was discovered by the guards, they would throw him back into the prison (or, apparently, worse) before he had a chance to speak to Frodo. Legolas knew, it would be better for him to provoke the guards, make them wish to bring him before Frodo. _

_Knowing this, Legolas extended his arm in front of the sealed hatch, leaned, and began pounding on it with all his might._

_***_

_"You lunatic," the Elf-guard hissed, dragging Legolas by the arm with which he'd been making his noise, out of the reopened prison cell, then straightening up, leaving the other guards who had come, to re-lock the cell. "Do you wish to wake the entire castle?"_

_"I wish for my freedom," Legolas said emphatically, trying to turn to face the Elf-guard as he was steered down the hall._

_"Well, you won't get it **that** way," the guard replied, tightening his grip on Legolas' shoulders._

_"I'll get it by any means necessary," Legolas replied, hoping silently that his plan would succeed. "Where are you leading me?"_

_"Vodelin," the guard stopped another Elf, completely ignoring Legolas' question. "This Elf wants trouble. Go tell Detarmor to fetch Lord Frodo. **He'll** know what to do."_

_~~~End of Part 5_


	6. Remembrance

**The Difference**

**by**** Leafy**

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by episodes of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9. 

Marissa & Muses: Thanks for the kindly review! :o) Detarmor can't kill people because Frodo won't let him. He's fully physically capable of killing, but he won't directly disobey Frodo. :o) I'm glad you're liking this story, and that I now have the secret to keeping the muses at bay! :o) Thanks again!

Enigma Jade: Thanks for the great review! I'm glad you're liking this. I'm afraid I have no Leggy-torture planned for this story, but there _are lots of exciting twists and turns on the way, so it should be interesting. :o) Thanks again for the review!:o)_

Crystal Millenium: Thanks for the review! Yeah, I couldn't remember the name of either of those episodes. :o) Yes, you're very correct in your speculations about Norgeth. That's how he feels about Elves, and why he thought Legolas had the Ring. And, uhm, yeah, your suggestion of Lego-dialogue actually sounds a lot simpler than what I had. Permission to use it later in the story? :o) Thanks for the great review! :o)

Europa: Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you're liking this. Yeah, GO LEGOLAS!! :o) Heh…well, thanks again!

Onward!!!

*              *              *

**Chapter 6**

**'Remembrance'**

Emblethor stole down the dark and empty hallway, making for Norgeth's chamber. He had been lucky enough to fall into a hallway that was chiefly unused, and hadn't seen a guard yet.

Remembering this, Emblethor turned a lit corner, then ran silently to the opposite wall, ducking into the doorway of Norgeth's chamber as he looked down the corridor at the guards who had positioned themselves there. Emblethor let his hand trop to the bronze doorknob, turning it slowly and silently, praying that its cooperation meant that the chamber was unlocked.

It did. The next thing Emblethor knew, the door behind him gave way, and he slipped into the dim room.

The room was rather large, lit by a sizable fire beneath the mantle at the wall opposite the bed, looked like it hadn't been made.

Taking no notice of his surroundings, as he had no time to, Emblethor hurried to a writing desk against the far wall. The desk had only a few blank sheets of parchment on it, but there were four drawers, two on each lower side of the desk, carved and well-blended into the wood, and it was these drawers that had drawn Emblethor to the desk. 

Stooping and opening the top right one, Emblethor began searching for the much-needed braid. The first drawer yielded nothing, as did the second, but the third one proved to be the treasure chest. Cast off to the side, in the shadows of the otherwise empty drawer, was the fair braid, laid straight and flawless, except for its sudden end. Emblethor reached down without hesitating, closing his hand around it. As his fingers came into contact with the soft hair, Emblethor's ears came into contact with the one sound he had been absolutely dreading. The door had opened once more, quickly shutting again as Emblethor straightened up, turning to see Norgeth, standing in front of the door, looking, shocked and hateful, at his prisoner-no-more.

_"What is he doing back so early?"_ Emblethor thought desperately, his eyes beginning to go back to the desk as he kicked the drawer shut quickly and imperceptibly, with his foot. As he did, his eyes fell back on Norgeth's bed, which, he could now see, wasn't unmade at all, but was turned down, as if for another sleep. And then, it all came into focus. Though he didn't know why Norgeth had come back so soon, he should have realized that he would be coming. The door was never unlocked, if the chamber was unattended for long, and Norgeth wouldn't have left a fire burning in there, if he didn't mean to come back until night The servants were in charge of keeping the fire lit or unlit, lighting the fire only a short while before Norgeth retired, then extinguishing it shortly after he left. Emblethor knew, if he hadn't been so distracted with is task, he could easily have spotted the signs. In that instant, Emblethor reviled himself for his carelessness.

He could not spend long pondering or reviling, though. With swift flourish, Norgeth drew his flat blade from the sheath at his waist, and lunged at Emblethor, a savage glare on his face. Emblethor dodged, ducking nimbly under Norgeth's arm and running back across the room to the door, as Norgeth's unsuccessful attack sent his blade far into the wood of the wall next to the desk. As Norgeth tried to wrench it out, Emblethor turned, seizing the doorknob and trying to turn it. To his horrified dismay, he found that Norgeth had locked it when he slammed it shut, on finding his wayward prisoner. Desperately, Emblethor turned to let his left side face the door, and rammed his small, lightweight frame against it, in the nonexistent hope of forcing it open.

Before he was able to get very far in this, though, Emblethor felt the heavy, muscular hands of Norgeth seize his right arm and jerk him off his feet, knocking him to the floor and slamming his head back against the rug.

Emblethor looked up, truly frightened but momentarily debilitated, as Norgeth was standing over him with his knife poised close, looking ready to kill.

Norgeth met Emblethor's gaze, looking at him as one might look at a mouse that had gotten its tail stuck in a trap. His eyes wandered to Emblethor's right arm, the hand of which was wedged under Emblethor's back. At first glance, it looked like it might have landed that way in the fall, but as Norgeth gazed at it now, it seemed to be there on purpose. It seemed as though Emblethor was hiding something.

Lowering his knife hand a bit, Norgeth reached with his free hand for Emblethor's wrist. 

"Tell me, friend," Norgeth said quietly, closing his fingers around the other Elf's wrist and forcefully pulling it out from under him, "why did you come here?"

Emblethor sat up with difficulty, trying to pull his hand out of Norgeth's impossible grip, as Norgeth extracted Legolas' braid from between Emblethor's clamped fingers. Norgeth hissed in aggressive annoyance at this feeble resistance, then stopped short in silent fury, when he saw what Emblethor had been hiding.

"_You wish to rob me?_" he exclaimed, forgetting himself, and leaping to his feet releasing Emblethor's wrist.

Instantly, Emblethor leaped up and back as well, to put some distance between himself and his enemy.

"_You could not even allow me to have this prize?_" Norgeth continued, stepping rather than running forward, now. He looked hateful still, but somehow hurt, as well.

Emblethor made no response, but almost imperceptibly, backed up still further. It was in these moments of instability that Emblethor had always been at his most cautious with Norgeth, and he knew that, right now, his own life depended on caution.

Norgeth bared his teeth in vicious hostility at the silence, lunging at Emblethor, his knife raised once more. Emblethor flinched back against the wall, then looked down at his own chest, to see Norgeth's fist against his breast, just above the heart, as he gripped the handle of his weapon, the blade having disappeared into Emblethor.

Emblethor made no sound, save a shuddering gasp of agony, falling to his knees as Norgeth ripped the blade out of him and turned for the still-very much closed door.

Holding a trembling hand over his surging wound, Emblethor struggled to get to his feet as Norgeth turned and stalked to the door, flinging it open and bellowing for the guards. _What had become of the braid?_

Emblethor did not have time to find out. Instantly, two guards hurried in and hoisted him to his feet, and beginning to drag him, bleeding, from the chamber. Emblethor turned himself around, looking back at Norgeth, as blood streamed down the front of his own ragged robes. 

"You can thank Aragorn for that," Norgeth spat out, his hand flitting to his own collarbone, for a reason Emblethor couldn't understand, and didn't even take very much notice of, as what was in his hand was of much more concern to him. The shiny, pale, severed end of Legolas' braid protruded from the top half of Norgeth's fist, up by his collarbone. Emblethor looked full at it without thinking, and Norgeth followed his gaze.

"You will _never_ lay your foul hands on this again!" Norgeth snarled, then bounded to the fireplace and suddenly, wildly flung the braid down, into the fire beneath the mantle.

Emblethor closed his eyes in dismay on the image of the thin braid, dissolving in the orange flames, as he was hauled from the chamber.

**********

_"Do you hear something?"_

_Merry's__ cautious question strikes fear into me. Of course, I hear something. For the past few minutes, every gust of wind, every rustling of leaves and branches, has sent fear railing through me, like the black-feathered arrows I'm expecting._

_Orcs__.__ They're here, I know it. We all know it. Aragorn stops in front of us, looking about, from time to time. He knows that we are being watched. At my side, Sting glows like a torch, screaming a certain warning of oncoming peril. Orcs are tracking us. They're closing in, and we have no hope of escape, in this crowded, expansive forest._

_Suddenly, Aragorn and Gandalf stop together in front of us. Aragorn draws his sword, and they both look around, but I know from the trembling ground and the unholy squawks and growls that are now plain, that we will go no further._

_"We must fight them," Aragorn murmurs. "It is no longer possible to evade."_

_After these words, I barely have time to yank the phosphorescent Sting from the sheath, before what seems to me like hundreds and hundreds of Orcs come charging through the trees._

_A hellish hailstorm of bloody blades and crudely-hewn arrows erupts all around me. I am enveloped by the Orcs and separated from Merry, from Sam, from everybody's sight, except the Orcs, closing in from all sides._

_"**Frodo****!**"__ I hear someone yell, though I do not know who._

_I stab outward helplessly with my sword, puncturing black and toughened skin all around, and spilling their foul blood, but seeming to make no headway, as my claustrophobic space grows ever smaller. I am alone, but surrounded._

_Before me, a great, tall Orc with a gored dagger raised high, springs up in front of me, snarling with menace. I cannot even raise my own sword, before I see his blade coming down, to end my life. _

_Suddenly, his back arches, and he throws his head back, as if in pain, and he falls, face first, toward me. I scramble back without thinking, ramming into the trunk of a tree that seems to have managed to become enveloped with me, as the Orcs' wobbly group moves. My assailant falls, his blade landing harmlessly beside my foot, an arrow sticking out between his shoulderblades. Legolas stands just behind him, his bow raised and loaded once more. He sees me and steps forward, lowering his bow in a quick instant, holding out his hand, to help me over the foul dead one's body. I take his hand, stepping quickly over the Orc and back onto level ground._

_Prepared to show my gratitude, I look up at Legolas, only to have a shadow fall across my eyes. Another Orc, wielding a terrible, deadly spear, looms up at my right side, drawing his arm back to kill me._

_Legolas__ pushes me down and away from the Orc, and tries to evade as well, falling to the ground beside me as the spear comes down.___

_I open my eyes to meet those of the Orc, who isn't about to give up so easily. He roars in frustrated fury and wrenches his spear up, ready to try again. Suddenly, the tip of a sword surfaces in his chest, and he roars again, in pain this time, as he falls to the ground at my feet, revealing Aragorn, standing, his bloody sword in his hand._

_I smile vaguely with relief at this, realizing that the action has stopped, the Orcs are defeated. Judging by the bodies strewn about, unless most have fled, there were not many Orcs to begin with, perhaps thirty, at most._

_My eyes wander to the last enemy I saw fall, lying on his face on the ground, his spear beside him, the sharp, bloodied end pointed out from under him, toward me. He's definitely dead, now._

_Suddenly, my mouth drops open as I recall one of my last images of that spearhead, as Legolas stood beside me. It looked large and formidable, but I remember that it was not bloody yet, at all. It was as if he had been saving it for me. Only, he hadn't gotten me._

_I turned my head quickly to Legolas. Aragorn was already at his side, turning him over onto his back, revealing a great wound in his lower chest, torn from the spear's having entered at a rough angle. I look at Legolas' face. He is looking back at me, in pain, but mostly with surprised sadness. He opens his mouth, as if to speak, but he seems unable to, struggling with his breath. I look at him helplessly, my own mouth forming silent words of pleading, of sorrow and regret. Legolas closes his mouth now, and his eyes as well, his head dropping just a bit closer to the ground._

_Aragorn__ removes his hand from the wound, opening his own mouth to speak the words I already know._

_"He's dead."_

_"**No!**" _

_Suddenly, there is a great thump, and I wake up on the floor, with a sting of pain in my head. I look around, gathering my thoughts and realizing where I am and hat has happened. I'm in my chamber. I've fallen out of bed._

_Before I get further than this, there is a knock at the inner door, leading into this room._

_"C-come in," I stammer hazily._

_The door opens, and Detarmor's tall frame appears there._

_"My Lord," he begins without hesitation. "I do apologize, but your presence is needed--"_

_He stops short, looking, as the light from the outer chamber illuminates this dark one, at me, surveying the position I'm in. I'm on the floor, swaddled in bedclothes, half-under the bed, itself._

_"Lord Frodo," he begins again, a bit more sympathetic. "Nightmares, sir?"_

_"No," I say, extricating myself from the blankets and standing up. _

_And, it's the truth. Nightmares are unreal, illusions, they're things that never happened._

_This happened._

_~~End of Part 6_

Author's Note: I'm sorry!! I promise Legolas and Lord Frodo will confront each other in the next chapter. Really! I promise! :o) This was just a perfect breaking off point, since it ends Frodo's vignette. I promise, though, Lego and Frodo will meet in the next chapter! See you then! :o) 


	7. Effect

**The Difference**

**by**** Leafy**

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by episodes of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9. 

Jaid Skywalker: Thanks for the great review! I'm glad you like the story so far. Hang on, 'cause we've got quite a bit happening, next. :o)

Europa: Thanks for the review! Yeah, they're definitely in a pickle now. :o) Wait'll you see the solution. :o)

Marissa and the Wild Wolf Pack: Thanks for the review! Yeah, I did have to spend quite a little bit of time gluing Detarmor back together, so if he seems to be in a bad mood, we'll know why. :o) Thanks again! :o)

Crystal Millenium: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked the vignette. I thought I should clear that up. :o) Thanks for letting me use your dialogue. :o)

Daphne: Thanks for the review! I'm happy you like the AU. I like writing it, so we should both be happy. Hope you like what's to come!

Thanks for the reviews, everyone, and hope you all like this chapter!

Onward!!

*              *              *

_"Thank goodness I did not realize the horrible danger!" --Frodo._

_The Lord of the Rings:_

_The Fellowship of the Ring.___

**Chapter 7**

**'Effect'**

Aragorn crawled through the cramped tunnel, gazing fixedly at the faint gray circle of light at the other end. He could make nothing but the light out, though it seemed to reflect the confined state of his present surroundings.

As he drew closer to the light, Aragorn could see a dusty stone wall, at the end of the lit area. Dropping down into the area, Aragorn found himself in a cell much like the one he and the rest of the fellowship had been imprisoned in, except for the slight illumination in this one. Gazing at the surrounding walls, Aragorn saw a heavy stone door, closed shut. Somewhat doubtfully, he walked over to it, looking down for a handle that he might turn, and finding none.

"Aragorn."

Aragorn jumped at the husky sound of his name, wheeling around. He could see something stirring by the wall, in the shadows that now obstructed the hole from view as well. Aragorn made no move of defense as the being struggled to its feet, as he had a fair, grim idea of who it must be.

Emblethor stepped into the vague light, ghostly pale, a reddened hand held over his breast. He halted as soon as he became visible to Aragorn, and stood, a bit unsteady, looking at him with utter misery. Aragorn came over to him quickly, removing the Elf's damp hand from his chest, revealing a horrible wound, still dripping with blood.

"I was caught," Emblethor whispered.

"I must bring you back," Aragorn replied, barely letting Emblethor get his statement out. "Your wound is great."

"You have more serious problems," Emblethor continued, resisting as best he could, as Aragorn tried to lead him to the hole through which he'd come. "Norgeth destroyed the braid."

Aragorn turned.

"'Destroyed'?" he breathed.

"He burned it," Emblethor replied. "Forgive me, please. I fear I've lost your friend forever."

"You aren't to blame," Aragorn said abstractly, turning his head as he thought the new conditions through. Hope was not necessarily destroyed with the braid. Norgeth had burned it, yes. He had burned it away to nothing, to ashes. _Ashes!_

Aragorn looked back at Emblethor.

"Where did Norgeth burn the braid?" he asked urgently.

Emblethor gazed at the floor, then back up at Aragorn, slowly, in weary remembrance.

"His chamber," he replied softly. "In the fireplace."

"Might--we still have a chance to get Legolas back, if we used the ashes of the hair?" Aragorn asked hesitantly.

Emblethor looked as if he was considering this, masking his discomfort as he sank back to the ground.

"Perhaps," he said. "Of course, there would then be the obstacle of getting the ashes. They're still in the fireplace, in the chamber. Also, they'll be disposed of by this evening, so whatever we'd do, we'd have to do it--," Emblethor broked of then, shivering, touching his fingertips briefly to his wound.

Aragorn bent down quickly, looking closer at Emblethor's wound, but not daring to touch it, as it was still bleeding, quite badly now.

"We must do something about your wound first," Aragorn said. "It can't wait."

Emblethor made a small noise in his throat, though Aragorn couldn't tell whether it was one of agreement or contradiction, as he moved the Elf's hand away, unfolding the bunched robes around the broken skin. The fabric was sticky with blood, which glistened on Aragorn's hands, in the faint light.

Suddenly, Aragorn's eyes shot upward, with fast enlightenment. Where was this light coming from? Why was this cell different from theirs?

The difference wasn't easy to find. It was a small, slittish window, perhaps three-quarters of a foot high, placed close to the ceiling. There were four thick, rusty bars spaced evenly along it.

Aragorn stood up, quickly making his way over to the light source. Reaching up, extending himself as much as he could, he just managed to close his hand around one of the bars, turning it, prying it, and finally wrenching it off, with a creak and a snap that he feared would bring the guards.

"There's no one out on that side," Emblethor said quietly, noting his fear. "I suppose they've forgotten that they ever put that window in, it's so small...what are you doing, anyway? Even _I_ can't fit through there."

"But there is someone who can," Aragorn began, then darted back across the room and into the tunnel as he heard the cell door unlock and swing open.

"Luncheon," said a voice, so surprisingly pleasant that Aragorn couldn't resist the urge to peer back into the cell, from the shadows.

He saw a short figure, clearly a hobbit, come over to Emblethor, bearing a wooden plate with some crumbly-looking bread resting on it. Aragorn found himself close to smiling as he watched Emblethor accept the dish. The almost laughably-genial manner with which the servant bestowed the meal on the prisoner strongly reminded Aragorn of Nob, one of the kindly hobbits employed at the Prancing Pony. At least, he had been employed there the last time Aragorn was there. It had been so long…

Aragorn was stirred from his thoughts as the Elf-guard who'd been in the doorway, watching every move made, ushered the hobbit out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind him.

At the sound, Aragorn turned and began making his way back down the tunnel, toward his own cell, as fast as he could move.

***

The rest of the fellowship looked up, startled to see Aragorn fall from the hole in the wall to the floor of the cell, in an obvious hurry.

He straightened up, looking about at them, conveying wordlessly that there wasn't time to explain, now.

"Pippin," Aragorn uttered, his eyes falling on the slight hobbit.

**********

_"You're a lot more trouble than you're worth," Merry stated, rising from his throne and walking up to Legolas, restrained before him by two guards. Merry looked up at one of them._

_"Send for Lord Frodo."_

_"We already have, sir," the guard responded instantly._

_Merry pursed his lips in annoyance._

_"Very well," he said shortly. "Leave us, then."_

_The guards complied, though they did not look happy to. Merry looked back up at Legolas._

_"You just stay right here," he hissed, distrust in his eyes. "Don't move from that spot, you understand?"_

_Before Legolas could respond, he heard soft footfalls issuing from a side doorway behind Merry, up closer to the thrones._

_A small figure emerged first, followed by a taller, Elven one, that Legolas recognized as belonging to the third Elf-guard (the one who'd stayed outside) from his discovery on the roof of the castle. This Elf, he knew, must be Detarmor._

_He didn't **look** very evil. His build was about the same as Legolas', and he had light brown hair, sept bach behind his shoulders and out of his clear eyes. There was humoring, sympathetic smile on his lips as he followed the smaller figure up to where Legolas and Merry stood, and it was only this smile that gave the appearance of there being anything devious about him._

_As they drew closer, Legolas redirected his attention to the smaller figure, having an easy idea of who it was, though his face was obstructed by his small hand, as he rubbed sleep from his eyes blearily._

_Frodo__ drew his hand away and looked into the eyes of Legolas, who gazed back as calmly as he could, in the present situation._

_Instantly, Frodo gasped as if choking, and stumbled backwards, knocking into Detarmor, who instantly helped him back to his feet._

_"Why does this insignificant soul trouble you, my Lord?" he asked softly, glancing up at Legolas briefly._

_"It's--he's--," Frodo mumbled, straightening up and separating himself from Detarmor. He slowly approached Legolas, looking slightly fearful, and very much confused._

_"Who are you?" he asked softly._

_Legolas__ did not move to respond verbally, but looked up at Detarmor and then Merry, then back down at Frodo, who understood his expression._

_"Leave us," Frodo said to Detarmor, then met the other hobbit's gaze. "You too, Merry."_

_"Frodo, will--" Merry began, unwilling to merely accept this command.___

_"Go, please," Frodo interrupted him softly. "I'll be fine."_

_Merry narrowed his eyes, but walked past Frodo all the same, leading Detarmor out with him as Frodo followed their route with his eyes. As the two departed, Frodo turned back to Legolas._

_"Well?" he said, gazing guardedly into Legolas' eyes._

_Legolas__ looked Frodo up and down. What should he say to him?_

_"I am--" he began, "I am--" he paused, closing his mouth. He looked down at Frodo with slight sadness. "I believe you know who I am."_

_Frodo's__ mouth dropped open, his eyes unmoving from Legolas'. He opened his mouth to reply, but seemed unable to._

_"Why--" he said finally. "Who…you're…" he closed his own mouth, tightly. Tears came, almost imperceptibly, into his eyes. He shook his head._

_"No," he said. "No, you're not. You're lying, you're not--"_

_"I am not Legolas," said Legolas, "as he is known to you. I am Legolas, where I come from."_

_Frodo__ furrowed his brow in vague understanding._

_"Where do you come from?"_

_"Another realm of Middle-Earth," said Legolas, after a pause. He supposed he would be able to make even less headway with Frodo, than he had with Sam, on the subject of his place of origin._

_Frodo__ lowered his eyes, turning his head away._

_"How did you come to this place?" he asked softly._

_"I got lost," said Legolas. "As you seem to have become."_

_Frodo__ turned back, vague hostility showing suddenly in his face._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Why have you kept the Ring?" said Legolas._

_Frodo's__ eyes widened in surprise at this, and some of his anger seemed to dissolve into defensiveness._

_"How is that do with you?"_

_"The Ring effects everyone!" Legolas responded. "Some, more than others."_

_Frodo's__ hand shot to the collar of his nightshirt, apparently instinctively._

_"You won't have It," he said. "**I** am the ruler." _

_"But, you do not rule," Legolas continued, undaunted. "You remain here, letting others command, or **tell you** what to command."_

_"That's not true!" Frodo cried. "How would you know, anyway? I've never seen you before, in my **life**."_

_"**That's** not true!" Legolas replied. "You know me. You know Legolas. You knew him. And, it's because of **him**, that you've been brought to this."_

_"He isn't to blame for anything!" Frodo countered desperately. "He was never to blame!"_

_"But, if he hadn't died, you wouldn't be doing this," said Legolas. "If he had lived, you would still have destroyed the Ring. You had no change of heart."_

_"**No!**" Frodo jerked backwards again, stumbling and falling to the floor. "Stop it!"_

_Instantly, Legolas bent down to help him up, but Frodo twisted away, trying to get up on his own._

_"I'm sorry," Legolas said softly, knowing he had moved too fast. "I'm sorry."_

_Suddenly, most probably provoked by Frodo's outburst, Merry and Detarmor reappeared, through the same door they'd exited by._

_"Get away!" Merry bellowed at Legolas, running over and pulling Frodo away from from him, helping his friend to his feet._

_Merry had only to look at Detarmor, before Legolas felt himself being hauled to his feet, by his arm._

_"Lord Frodo," said Detarmor, looking down at Frodo with hardened features, still holding onto Legolas. "What shall I **do** with him?" _

_Frodo__ looked up at Legolas with burning eyes._

_"Get him out of my sight," he whispered. "Take him away."_

_~~End of Part 7_


	8. Concerning Hobbits

The Difference

by Leafy

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations.

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely based on episodes of the television show, "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.

Thank you for all the great reviews, everybody! And hope your holidays were fun! :o)

ZonyBone: Thanks for the great review! Yeah, I had some trouble getting to Chap. 7 at first too. I guess FF.net has sorted itself out, though. I'm glad you're liking the story. Thanks again! :o)

Marissa and the WWP: Hope your email's under control now! :o) Thanks for the fab review! And unfortunately, I can't let Lord Frodo be killed, 'cause he's got too much more to do before this story is over. (Trust me, he's got quite a few hurdles before him. :o) ) And besides, I used up all the duct tape and super glue on Detarmor again. Thanks for the holiday wishes! I celebrate Christmas, btw, so you had it right. :o) Namarie!  ::looks at the singing wolves:: Where might I find some of them?

Daphne: Yeah…and it's not over yet. Thanks for the review! :o)

Rei.K: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're liking this! To my knowledge, a Mary Sue is a story where the heroine (it's usually a heroine) is a made-up character that is flawless in every way, and that gets to "lock lips" with the hero that of the material that the fanfic is based on, before the story is finished. Hope that helps! Thanks again for the nice review! :o)

Europa: Thanks for the review! Emblethor got wounded near the end of his part in Chapter Six. :o) I'm glad you like the ashes thing. I wasn't sure if that was too convenient…anyway, thanks again for the review!

Ecri: Thanks for the review! Yeah, Frodo isn't coming around anytime soon…I'm glad you liked the mist thing. We'll hear from Sam again in the next chapter. Hope you like this one! :o)

Onward!! 

**********

"Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere." - Elrond, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter 8

'"Concerning Hobbits"'

"Can you fit?" Aragorn asked anxiously, watching Pippin turn his head to the side, hoisting himself slowly through the slim opening.

"Just," Pippin said with difficulty, collapsing onto the frozen ground, level with the high window. He turned around, bringing his face back down to the opening. "Where do I go?"

"Norgeth's chamber is just above this room," Emblethor spoke up from where he sat on the cell floor. "There is a window, but the shutters will most likely be closed and locked. Lift one of them up as far as you can, on its hinges, and try to slip the lock open. It's not a very complicated hindrance."

"Thank you," Pippin smiled awkwardly over at Emblethor, then refocused on Aragorn. "And I'm to get the ashes in the fireplace?" 

"Yes," said Aragorn, drawing a small, emptied pouch from inside his cloak and handing it out to Pippin. "Just try to get _some_ of the ashes," Aragorn continued, reading Pippin's look as he accepted the pouch.

"The ashes we are looking for may be near the top," Emblethor suggested. "But go now, the day grows old."

***

Pippin silently blessed the name of Emblethor as he gently nudged the tall right shutter once more, and he felt it give, opening easily under his pressure. 

Knowing he hadn't a moment to lose, Pippin glanced around, quickly finding the fireplace, just as Emblethor had described it, though it was now filled with gray ashes, where the fire had been. He knelt down, touching his fingertips to the mass. They all looked the same. He couldn't take them all, he knew. Which ones should he take? Emblethor said they might be near the top…

Just then, Pippin heard the bedroom door snap open behind him. He turned his head to the noise immediately, toppling off-balance and onto the floor. Just a few paces away, standing in the doorframe, was Norgeth, bearing the same disdainful expression Pippin had seen on his face when they had first been brought before him.

Norgeth looked at Pippin with slight surprise, then walked past him, over to his bed. He sat down on the edge of it, taking his foot in his hands.

"Stop playing with those ashes, if you're not going to light a fire," Norgeth said, pulling his boots off.

Pippin remained where he was, staring at Norgeth in fearful amazement. What was he doing? Why had he not sent for the guards? Was he mocking Pippin for his foolishness, in trying to infiltrate the chamber?

Norgeth gazed questioningly back at Pippin for an instant, then moved back and lay down on the bed, sighing as if he hadn't done this in years.

"Don't forget the dishes," Norgeth muttered, raising his hand vaguely toward his desk, as he shut his eyes.

Much confused, and still rather frightened, Pippin redirected his attention to the desk. As he looked upon it, he suddenly realized what was going on.

On the near corner of the desk was a small, thin dish with a ring of clear gravy on it, and a fork balanced on its edge. Next to the dish was an empty teacup. These were "the dishes". They needed to be cleaned up, a job for a servant--which was just who and what Norgeth must have thought Pippin was.

"The fool probably can't tell one hobbit from another," Pippin realized resentfully, straightening up and walking over to the desk, relieving it of the luncheon things.

He chanced a look in Norgeth's direction as he turned around. The Elf was still lying back on the bed, his eyes still shut. Without more hesitation, Pippin hurried back over to the fireplace, seizing a handful of ashes as he got there, off the top of the pile. Putting the dishes down on the floor, Pippin whipped Aragorn's opened pouch out from inside his cloak, dropped the ashes inside, and quickly pulled the drawstring at the top of the pouch, pulling it shut.

Norgeth opened his eyes then, a delayed reaction to the slight noise of the plate being set down on the floor. He sat up a bit, turning his head toward Pippin in suspicious annoyance.

Pippin hastily slipped the pouch back out of sight, brushing the residue off his hand, onto the outside of his robes. He looked back at Norgeth, gesturing nervously at the fireplace.

"Shall I--" he faltered.

"_Scat!_" Norgeth interrupted him with irritated anger, a glare lighting in his eyes. 

Without another word, Pippin snatched up the dishes and ducked out of the room, into the dim hallway.

***

Pippin looked the new space up and down quickly. He had no idea what to do now, which way to turn. Even if he found his way back to Emblethor's cell, through the castle, the prison door would be locked. He had to find his way back outside, back to the little window. 

"A window," Pippin thought, vaguely hopeful. _That's_ what's he needed to look for. Or, perhaps a door. He just needed to get out of this accursed place…

"_You_," a voice behind him barked suddenly.

Pippin turned apprehensively, clutching the dishes in his hands, and looked up, into the eyes of a tall, harsh-looking Elf guard.

"What are you doing here? Get back to the kitchens!" he snarled down at Pippin, stepping to the side, to reveal the other end of the hall, lit by the distant doorway of what Pippin supposed were "the kitchens". He glared down as Pippin walked helplessly up to and past him, doing as he was told.

Pippin entered the well-lit kitchen with his head down, trying to avoid being looked at by the other hobbit servants, who seemed much too busy with their own tasks to notice, anyway. Trembling with nerves, Pippin set the wobbling dishes down next to the filled wash basin, then ducked out the back door as another hobbit came through it with a pail, filled with clean water. He looked over his shoulder at Pippin as he dumped the pail's contents into the wash basin.

"You might've put them in," the servant called after Pippin, vaguely annoyed, scooping the dishes up off the floor and transferring them to the washing water.

"Sorry," Pippin chanced, stopping briefly in the doorway without turning around, then scurrying out of the kitchen and out of the castle, running around the side wall.

Despite the fact that it gone unnoticed by most for a long time, Pippin had no trouble finding his way back to the small prison ventilator, dropping to his knees on the tough ground as he reached it.

"Aragorn--" he breathed, bringing his face closer to the opening.

**********

_"That's unnecessary," Legolas muttered, suddenly feeling the tip of Detarmor's sword poke his lower back, prodding him forward._

_"I'll be the judge of that," Detarmor growled behind him, quickening the pace, "as I'll also be the judge of your character."_

_"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, trying to turn his head, but realizing this would be folly, as Detarmor needed very little provocation at this point._

_"I don't truly know who you are or why you upset Lord Frodo so," Detarmor answered icily. "But I've a fair idea of the answer to at least one of those questions, and I intend to test my theories."_

_"How?"__ Legolas stopped then, despite the blade at his back. He turned to face Detarmor, who looked back with quiet contempt._

_"You've nothing to worry about," he said patronizingly, a trace of the same scheming smile Legolas had seen him wearing in the throne room appearing on his lips once more. "You have very little information to provide me with at this point."_

_Legolas__ narrowed his eyes._

_"Leave Frodo alone," he said. "Your tormenting of him is beyond evil."_

_"Who are you to say that?" Detarmor said, lowering his sword. "Should I leave him to you? Let you lie and deceive your way to the Ring?"_

_"I do not desire it," Legolas responded._

_"**Everyone** desires it," Detarmor snapped._

_"Not everyone," said Legolas. "For, all know that the Ring brings nothing but evil. Only those who do not wish to face this fact desire It."_

_"Like Lord Frodo?" Detarmor raised an eyebrow, smirking a bit._

_"Like you," Legolas replied. "One so cowardly and low that they would try to destroy an otherwise-innocent halfling for possession of the Ring."_

_Detarmor__ sucked in his breath in anger at this insult._

_"Keep your mouth shut," he hissed. "You know nothing about my dealings with Lord Frodo. You are nothing but ignorant, meddlesome--," he stopped himself, breathing in more evenly, regaining composure, then looking back up at Legolas._

_Gritting his teeth, Detarmor turned Legolas back around by his shoulder, shoving him in the familiar direction of the cell._

_"Don't think you're very clever," Detarmor cautioned him. "Move!"_

_***_

_"Open the cell," Detarmor commanded the two guards standing by the opposite wall. They hastily complied, despite the shield of Legolas between themselves and the head of their position._

_Detarmor__ moved up next to Legolas as they reached the small door, still gripping the prince's shoulder, his sword drawn once more._

_"Stay where you're put, this time," he said softly to Legolas, looking down as the guards began to unlock the many restraints on the door._

_Just then, a wet crash sounded from the direction of the kitchen. Detarmor and Legolas looked up in unison, to see the now-quite familiar human woman, standing before the same female halfling Legolas had seen when he was first imprisoned, in the doorway of the kitchen a few paces ahead. Between the two in the kitchen was a puddle of sudsy water, obviously originating from an upset cooking pot on the floor at the puddle's edge, the back end of which faced the hallway. The hobbit girl looked down at the accident, looking ready to cry with shame._

_"**Again!**"__ Detarmor exclaimed without warning, taking off from Legolas' side and dashing up to the unpleasant scene._

_The human woman, who'd looked prepared to do a bit of scolding on her own for the hobbit's mistake, stood down nervously, backing away as Detarmor approached. It seemed to Legolas that nearly everyone in this place feared Detarmor more than the death he apparently threatened them with._

_"You awkward fool!" Detarmor bellowed down at the girl, who shrank back in fright. "Do you believe those around you can afford to follow you around always, cleaning up what you upset? Do you think your labor is even **worth** that?"_

_"N-no," the girl was crying now, looking at the floor in misery. Legolas felt his jaw tighten in anger at this cruel spectacle._

_"This has happened **far too often!**" Detarmor seized the girl's chin, tilting her head back up. "You ought to be **fired!**" Detarmor kicked the empty pail at his feet at the girl, sending it crashing into her small legs. She fell backward onto the floor._

_"Leave her alone!" Legolas cried (again, intervening before he gave it much thought). He ran to the doorway, stopping and helping the girl up. "She did nothing that warrants this."_

_"Stay out of this!" Detarmor jerked Legolas away from the girl, who scurried, terrified, back to the far end of the kitchen. "You cannot have control over everything."_

_Detarmor__ pushed Legolas back into the hall, to the now-open cell door._

_"One more thing," Detarmor spun Legolas around to face him. "Merry was right about you. You're more trouble than you're worth. **Far** more trouble." _

_With that, Detarmor drew his fist back, and Legolas found himself propelled suddenly back the short distance between himself and the wall. He hit the hard surface, his face throbbing and burning with the pain of the unanticipated, savage punch Detarmor had delivered to him, full in the face. Legolas opened his eyes dizzily, bringing his hand to his face, feeling a thin trail of blood running out of his nose. Before Legolas could collect himself further, Detarmor turned him around once more, and down to the opening._

_"Now, **stay in there!**" Detarmor continued, shoving Legolas back into the darkness. "If you don't, you may not even live to regret it, next time."_

_****End of Part 8****_


	9. Trouble and the Truth

The Difference

by Leafy

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations.

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely based on episodes of the television show, "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.

Thank you for all the great reviews, everybody! :o)

Daphne: Heh, yeah. I like Pip. :o) Thanks for the review!

DG: Thanks for the review! Yep, Detarmor is not a calm dude. You and Marissa seem to have a like opinion of him, understandably. :o)I'm glad you're enjoying this! :o)

Marissa and the WWP: More bandages, please! Stat! :o) I have a feeling Det's gonna need more, esp. after this chapter. And, uhm ::leans forward, speaking in a whisper:: Starburst hard candy, and Phish Food ice cream! You can have Detarmor and Norgeth when they're through, if you like! ::big grin:: BTW, I will be searching for wolves like those. I love writing too much to be without muses as cool as them! ::Sways to Auld Lang Syne:: I love this song. :o) Hope you had fun at your grandmother's, and hope you like this next chapter!   

Ecri: Thanks for the review! Yeah, good point about the hobbits. They'd definitely do a little sampling of the dishes, before they were brought out. :o) I'm glad you liked Pip's scenes, too. He's great! :o)

Europa: Hoom, hroom, how true. :o) Thanks for the review, hope you like the next chapter!

ZonyBone: Thanks for the great review! Nope, Detarmor's not kind at all. (Detarmor: "Kindness?" ::looks around blankly:: :o) ) Thanks for the compliment about Legolas, too. :o) 

bOOgie: Yes, you're definitely genius! :o) Thanks for the great review, and I hope you like what's to come (Sam makes a reappearance in this chapter :o) )   

**Also, I would like to thank Crystal Millenium for some of the ideas I put forth in this chapter. Thanks, dahling!! :o)**

**********

Chapter 9

"Trouble and The Truth"

_I collapse onto my bed, letting out a choked sigh. I roll over after a pause, pulling the covers back up around me. What has happened here? What's going on?_

_Who is this stranger, this specter that has appeared before me? _

_"I believe you know who I am…"_

_I shut my eyes, clutching the bedclothes in my hands. Legolas…_

_I don't really miss him, I suppose, as I miss Gandalf, or miss Bilbo, since his death. I really just feel an overwhelming, indescribable sadness whenever I think of him (which is fairly frequently). He didn't deserve to die…it wasn't his time to die…though I suppose I can't really say that for sure. Even having the Ring does not make me that powerful. Though, I wish it did…_

_Still, it is all in the past, and Detarmor has said, quite truthfully, I believe, that nothing good can come of living in the past, questioning what has already been done. It's useless._

_I open my eyes, looking up at the intricate pattern the iron panes on the window at the wall at the foot of my bed reflect in the moonlight, onto the ceiling. It is useless to live in the past, that is true, but what must done for the present, for the future? What must be done about this stranger, this alien "Legolas"? What does he want? Why is he here? Who is he? What is he? He troubles me…he bothers me…what can be done? What must be done about him, for him, with him? What must I do with him? He can't remain here…_

_***_

_We trudge forward, mournful, drained, soiled with the blood of our enemies, and the blood of our friend. No one speaks. No one has anything to say._

_Aragorn__ leads the way, looking ahead but seeming just as stuck behind as the rest of us._

_The pack has thinned a bit. Boromir and Gimli have been sent back to Rivendell with Legolas' body. They will meet us again at their own pace. Sam walks next to me, Merry and Pippin travel behind us a bit. Tears gather in my eyes as I follow Aragorn, barely breathing, barely moving my feet. Sam is weeping silently, privately, as well, though I believe it is more for my sake than for Legolas'. Sam knows what I'm feeling. _

_Aragorn__ halts, as Gandalf comes up to his side._

_"Let us stop here for now," the wizard says gently, knowing that, at this point, none of the rest of us would stop on our own._

_***_

_"Sit down--I'll do that," Aragorn says kindly, coming up behind me as I drop a small pile of kindling on the ground. I obey without question or protest, backing out of the way and sitting down heavily on the ground, my side towards Aragorn. He looks up at me as he arranges the wood. "Frodo…"_

_"What?" I turn my head to him, shutting my mouth tightly, after this word. It's all I can get out._

_"You aren't responsible for what happened to Legolas," he says softly. "None of us are. It could not have been prevented."_

_"Of course, it could have," I respond, almost without my knowledge, as I look away again. "Easily. Without the Ring, none of it would have happened. He wouldn't even have been here."_

_"Then, the Ring is to blame," Aragorn says. "But you are not. Understand that, Frodo," he leans closer, trying to get me to meet his eye. "Please."_

_I don't reply right off. I don't even want to. What can I say? I **don't** understand it. I don't understand why it happened, why Legolas died, and I didn't, none of the rest of us did. But, I feel Aragorn's eyes on me, searching, beseeching. I turn to meet them, though it is no easy task, for me._

_"I know," I say quietly. "I know."_

_***_

_"Come," I think to myself, with anguish. "Come, go to sleep. Shut your eyes. Stop thinking. Stop thinking about it. Just shut your eyes."_

_My eyes **are** shut, though it doesn't seem that way. Frightening images, whether truly emblazoned underneath my eyelids, or merely in my mind's eye, trouble me and keep me from moving away from the pain and sadness, even for this one night. _

_How can I sleep, with what has happened? He didn't deserve to die. It shouldn't have happened. I could have prevented it, but I didn't._

_I roll over onto my back on the cold ground, opening my eyes, gazing helplessly up at the sky, in debilitating grief. _

_I realize that there will be more, of course. Even if we defeat this Ring, every last one of us will be destroyed, one way or another. But evil will not be destroyed, I know this, I feel it. Evil is unshakeable. It will come back. It will thrive. And there will be nothing I can do about it then, because I will be gone forever, and will have done only as I was told, in life. Legolas had done only what he'd been told was right, and we'd all seen how tragically futile it had been. But what can I do now? What should I do to keep this from happening, ever again? I ponder longer than is necessary, the answer already forming in my mind._

_I should keep the Ring. Wield it. Not use it against anyone. Not use it for anyone. Not use it at all, but keep it. Merely possessing the Ring will be enough to keep all other forces at bay. It will put me in control, and if I am in control, I can be sure that nothing like this ever happens again._

_I bring my hand up to rest on my chest. I feel the Ring beneath my hand, under my shirt. It feels cold under the fabric, but inviting, somehow. I blink hard as the tears finally come running down the sides of my face, landing in the dirt. I suppose I cry for Legolas, though I feel a strange relief now, too. I roll over onto my side, pulling the Ring out from under my clothes, closing my hand around it on its chain, and bringing my fist up closer to my face, crying in earnest now. _

_"Frodo," Aragorn calls to me, standing at the edge of the campsite. I roll over to face him, realizing that Sam is awake next to me, sitting up with concern. They must have heard me. _

_"What are you doing?" Aragorn asks, noticing my hand._

_I stand up, releasing the Ring, wiping my face with the back of my other hand. I try to look determined and sure, though I know, to Aragorn, I only look like a little boy._

_"I want to tell you something," I say to him. "I want to tell you all something very important."_

_***_

_Legolas__ let out a groan of pain and distress as he heard the cell door being replaced and shut up again, behind him. He rolled over onto his back, then sat up, delicately holding his hand underneath his nose, catching the drops of the blood that were already lessening, though his face was still hot and still ached, where Detarmor had punched him._

_"Something more we have in common," a familiar voice spoke up in the darkness. "Apart from imprisonment, of course."_

_Legolas__ turned around, smirking as he saw Sam step forward, looking cocksure, though he also looked at least somewhat pleased that Legolas had returned. _

_"Did you get very far with Frodo?" Sam inquired chidingly. "He doesn't always listen to reason, I've found."_

_"No, he doesn't," Legolas agreed amiably, wiping his nose as he turned himself around fully. "Neither does Detarmor."_

_Sam's smile faltered at his name._

_"That was him…" he said softly, cocking his head slightly toward the closed door._

_"Yes," Legolas said. "And, you were right in everything you said about him. He's evil."_

_"He's weak," Sam said dismissively, walking over to the wall and sitting down. "He can't control himself, for the Ring."_

_They paused then, as Legolas considered all that had happened, all that he had seen since last he had been in this cell. What could he do, now?_

_"Are you going to try again?" Sam asked finally, looking up wearily in the direction of the cell ceiling._

_"Perhaps," Legolas replied. He didn't see what else he could do, at this point._

_***_

_"Lord Frodo, you sent for me?" Detarmor stood in the doorway of Frodo's room. _

_"Please come in. Shut the door," Frodo said, sitting up straighter on the edge of his bed as Detarmor came and sat down beside him._

_"What is it, my Lord?" Detarmor said softly, looking down at him with devotion._

_"It's this stranger," Frodo replied. "He troubles me greatly. And, how he speaks, what he says…" Frodo paused, thinking of how to articulate what he wanted to communicate, "I feel as if he is, perhaps--"_

_"--dangerous?"__ Detarmor interrupted._

_Frodo__ looked up at him with slight surprise._

_"Forgive me, my Lord," said Detarmor, "but it is what I feel."_

_"Truly?"__ Frodo asked._

_"Yes, my Lord," Detarmor replied ardently. "I would never tell you anything but the truth."_

_Frodo__ looked down at the floor._

_'Dangerous'? He didn't know about that. Curious, yes, unsettling, absolutely, but 'dangerous'? It seemed a bit of a stretch. Frodo couldn't say that he'd been really afraid of this stranger. He looked back up at Detarmor._

_"I don't think he's a threat," he said. "I think--"_

_"Forgive me, my Lord, but he **is**," Detarmor interrupted, his eyes wide and insistent. "He resisted most frighteningly when we tried to put him back in his cell. Just ask Vodelin, or Denil. They were there. He **attacked** them."_

_Again, Frodo looked at him in alarmed surprise._

_"He didn't--?" he began in disbelief._

_"I'm afraid it is true, my Lord," Detarmor said disconsolately. "He desires the Ring. He desires it fiercely. That is why he is here."_

_Frodo__ looked away again, in tumultuous thought._

_"That is why he is here," Frodo thought, his hand almost straying up to his nightshirt again. "That is why he appears the way he does. He is not truly Legolas, in any form. He is evil."_

_"Lord Frodo?" Detarmor leaned over slightly, still speaking mellifluously. "What did you wish to consult me about?"_

_Frodo__ turned his head back to the Elf._

_"Nothing," he said solidly, standing up. "Go and fetch him. I shall be in the throne room."_

_***_

_"Now what?"__ Sam exclaimed in muffled anguish as the cell door was whipped open once more. "I haven't had this much indoors light in years."_

_"Silence, halfling," Denil snarled, climbing in and seizing Legolas' arm. "Come with me."_

_"Why?" Legolas asked agitatedly, noting the grim gleam in the guard's eye._

_"An audience with Lord Frodo," Denil replied, dragging him out of the cell and setting off with him down the hall, leaving Vodelin to clean things up. "You should be very pleased."_

_***_

_It was no mere audience that awaited Legolas, he could easily see as he was thrust into the throne room. Frodo stood before his throne, looking treacherous and betrayed. Just behind him stood Detarmor, his hands joined down by his waist, whatever he held in them, blocked from view by Frodo. Detarmor wore a look much like Frodo's, though his held a tint of triumph. Legolas froze as Dentil entered swiftly behind him._

_"What--" he said._

_"Silence," Dentil snapped, coming around to face Frodo and Detarmor. _

_"Leave us, Dentil," Frodo said firmly. _

_Dentil looked sore to miss what was going to happen, as it was obvious to him as well that this was more than just an audience, but he departed, as he was told._

_Legolas__ looked after him uneasily, then faced Detarmor and Frodo again._

_"What's going on?" he asked softly._

_Detarmor__ stepped forward, drawing a large, razor-sharp sword into view. _

_"You have reached the end of your journey," he said simply. _

_He came up to Legolas and seized a fistful of his flaxen hair, pulling his head back. Detarmor lifted the sword, bringing it up to Legolas' pale throat. Legolas gasped in disbelief as he felt the cold blade, realizing what was going to be done. His eyes fell on Frodo, standing back, looking down in embarrassed pain, in fear. Frodo looked up, seemingly in spite of himself, at Legolas' exclamation. Taking in Legolas' face, his look changed from shame to grave curiosity._

_"What happened to you?" he asked, stepping forward, "to your nose?" _

_Detarmor__ staggered back in surprise at the sound of Frodo's voice, unintentionally removing the sword from Legolas' throat. He turned back to Frodo, looking shocked and disappointed. _

_"My Lord--?" he said, glancing at Legolas' nose, which Legolas realized then, had started bleeding ever so slightly again. Instinctively, the prince reached up and wiped it with his fingers, opening his mouth to reply to Frodo._

_"My Lord," Detarmor continued, not giving Legolas a chance. "A side effect of his resistance. A product of our self-defense, in trying to get him back into the cell."_

_"**What?**" Legolas snapped, gazing with matching shock at Detarmor. "That's not true! You know what happened. **You** hit--"_

_"Silence!"__ Detarmor bellowed. "We have no more time or patience for your lies," he looked ready to raise the sword again. _

_"Wait," Frodo grasped the hilt of sword lightly, drawing it away from Detarmor, who surrendered it helplessly. Frodo looked up at Legolas. "What happened to your face?"_

_"A slight act," Legolas responded. "Though I can tell you truthfully, that I did not provoke it as self-defense."_

_"Will you believe him?" Detarmor burst out next to Frodo. "He would not tell you the truth, when death is so near because of it!"_

_"And **he** would not tell you the truth, with the Ring so near!" Legolas maintained his gaze at Frodo, glancing away once only, to indicate Detarmor in his statement._

_"Oh, how clever!"__ Detarmor countered, sounding very nearly affronted. "Turn around the crimes and accusations, the very things that plague your character."_

_"What?" Legolas refocused on Detarmor. "You say I covet the Ring? I have already told you, I don't!"_

_"Then, why are you here?" Frodo cried out in sudden suffering, bounding in between them, the sword in his hand. "Why have you come here?"_

_Legolas__ looked down at Frodo, sadness, turmoil, frustration, desperation to help and convince, pooled into his eyes. _

_"I got lost," he responded slowly, softly, truthfully._

_Frodo__ shut his mouth, lowering the sword. Detarmor did not seem to like what was happening._

_"He is **lying**," Detarmor insisted. "He is not here by chance! If he did not want the Ring, then why would he even have spoken to you about it, tried to convince you to give it up?"_

_Frodo__ looked at Detarmor with childlike diligence as he spoke, then turned back to Legolas, his features hardened a bit, in consideration of Detarmor's seemingly-valid point._

_"Yes," he said softly. "If you speak only the truth, explain that."_

_"I only said it because the Ring is treacherous," Legolas replied, his tone unchanging. "I have been told why you kept it, and I know it is for the wrong reasons. Without him," Legolas again indicated Detarmor, with his eyes, "you would have been able to see that, long ago."_

_"Detarmor is nothing but a blessing," Frodo said, surprised and defensive, at this last statement. "He only means to help me."_

_"Only as long as it takes him to get the Ring from you," Legolas said instantly._

_"How dare you!" Detarmor stumbled, restraining himself from lunging at Legolas, in front of Frodo._

_"That--that isn't true," Frodo said, ignoring Detarmor, for once. "He is my friend."_

_"Sam was your friend," Legolas responded. "**He** only wanted to help you. But you had him locked away, and on whose bidding?"_

_Frodo__ lowered his eyes in shame, knowing the answer, full well._

_"And, what of your subjects, your men and women?"__ Legolas continued, seizing his chance. "They do not care what you command; they only fear Detarmor!"_

_"I--I can't--" Frodo mumbled._

_"If you can't believe me, go see for yourself," Legolas said. "Those who work in your kitchens, the hobbits--your very **kind**--live in fear of his aggressive ways."_

_"Do not speak!" Detarmor interrupted in fury._

_"The hobbits are alright," Frodo spoke up over Detarmor, his tone now innocent, naïvely indignant and surprised, as he looked back up at Legolas. "Lissie takes care of them. She's in charge of them."_

_"**Lissie****?**"__ Legolas replied incredulously, then realized that Frodo must have been talking about the ubiquitous human woman he had met, from the kitchens. "Lissie does not take care of the hobbits, unless it is under Detarmor's bidding. He **lords** over them. They live in terror of--"_

_"Silence!"__ Detarmor bellowed again, snatching the sword away from Frodo and swiping it at Legolas' face, which the prince drew out of range, stumbling back, startled. Legolas looked down at Frodo at this, who, by his appearance, looked just as startled as Legolas, if not more so. He looked slowly away from Legolas, to gaze, hurt and disbelieving, at Detarmor. Detarmor turned back to him with hesitation, knowing that his actions would not be explained away so easily, now. He breathed in slowly, exhaling as he handed the sword back to Frodo._

_"Forgive me, I beg you," he said to Frodo. "But--this stranger's words--his accusations against me--"_

_"Denil!" Frodo turned his head to the stone awning in the wall a few paces away. Instantly, the guard reappeared, looking puzzled. Frodo gestured to Legolas, with the hand that held the sword. "Escort him back, please. I need a moment alone with…" he trailed off._

_"Yes, my Lord," Dentil replied dutifully. He walked over to Legolas, grabbing him roughly by the arm again, and forcefully pushing him back the way he had come._

_"No!" Frodo blurted at this, holding up his free hand. "Don't--" he faltered again, lowering his hand. "Just escort him back to the cell, please."_

_Nodding with compliance, Dentil let go of Legolas' arm, walking just behind him out of the throne room and down the hall, letting out a sigh of incomprehension as soon as he was out of Frodo's earshot. _

_**********_

Aragorn pulled Pippin through the window, setting him down gingerly on the stone floor.

"I've got them," Pippin said, reaching into his cloak and pulling out the pouch, dented at the bottom with ashes, handing it to Aragorn.

"Wonderful, thank you," Aragorn responded hurriedly, accepting the ashes, then turning back to Emblethor. "Now, we must get _you_ back to our cell."

"And, what if Norgeth, or one of the guards comes to check on me?" Emblethor mumbled, looking in no way ready to cooperate. "It's too dangerous. I can cast the spell here."

"What--" Aragorn began, but was silenced as Emblethor held out his hand. 

"Just let me do this," Emblethor said softly. "With Legolas back, we may stand a chance against Norgeth and his men."

"Are you _strong_ enough?" Pippin asked, softly incredulous, eyeing the Elf's worsening wound with concern. 

"I'm getting no stronger, doing nothing," Emblethor replied.

"Which is why we must tend to you _first_," Aragorn said firmly, coming over and leaning down, preparing to lift Emblethor up.

"No!" Emblethor said in a startlingly sharp tone, ducking out of the way. "Let me bring back Legolas, before we do anything else. This may be our only chance. Norgeth--"

"Alright," Aragorn interrupted him, holding his hands up slightly, for silence. He wished to hear nothing more about Norgeth, at least for the moment, and it seemed to him that Emblethor's guilt over the trouble he felt he'd caused was causing the Elf great anguish, especially in his present, weakened state. "Go on," Aragorn backed up slowly, glancing at Pippin, directing him to do the same. 

Emblethor opened the pouch, pouring a small amount of the ashes into his open hand. He closed his hand around them, and closed his eyes as well, appearing now to be in deep thought. Aragorn looked on with growing unease as Emblethor appeared to grow more and more strained, but otherwise, nothing else happened to anything. Emblethor bowed his head, groaning in slight frustration, his hands shaking. Suddenly, his closed hand sprang open, scattering the pinch of ashes on his robes and onto the floor in front of him.

"You're right," he said hoarsely. "I'm too weak. I need Gandalf, again."

"Then, come," said Aragorn, coming back over and helping Emblethor up, supporting him as he stood. "As you've said, time is of the essence. Pippin, you go first."

The hobbit nodded, quickly obeying him, jumping into the small hole nearby and traveling as rapidly as he could (on all fours) down the tunnel, to ensure enough room for Aragorn and Emblethor. 

Aragorn moved forward with Emblethor. He hoisted the Elf into the tunnel, looking back at the door as he heard one of the guards pass by again. 

"Are you alright?" he asked in a whisper, turning back to Emblethor, who had already started crawling. 

"Yes," Emblethor said wearily, his arms giving out as he crashed down onto his elbows.

Aragorn hastily climbed in, a few paces behind him.

"It's alright," Aragorn said, looking on at him with anxiety, as the Elf struggled to right himself. This was bad…"It's not far--you'll be alright."

Emblethor made another indiscernible noise, straightening up and pulling himself forward.

***

"What did he need you for?" Sam asked, helping Pippin down as he reached the opposite end of the tunnel.

"It's a lot to tell," Pippin responded, turning around to look for his companions, and quickly spotting Emblethor's form, moving towards them. "He's hurt," Pippin cautioned them, stepping back, again to provide room. 

"Who?" many voices asked at once, but in an instant, it became apparent who was injured. Boromir rushed forward, grasping Emblethor by the shoulders and slowly lowering him out of the hole, comfortably onto the ground. Emblethor looked up at him gratefully, moving out of the way as he heard Aragorn approach, from behind.

"Now," Aragorn said, dropping to the ground, on his feet next to Emblethor, "we--"

"--must still bring Legolas back first," Emblethor cut him off. "I'm almost certain the guards heard something then. We can't wait. I'd have done it myself, if I was able to."

Aragorn looked down in weary frustration, but stepped to the side, knowing that, for Emblethor's physical sake, he couldn't waste more time arguing the same point. He turned to Pippin, standing in front of him. 

"Pippin, the ashes," he said softly, holding out his hand.

Pippin looked briefly at the man's hand, then up at his face, his eyes slightly wide with alarm.

"I gave them to you," he whispered.

Aragorn lowered his hand, thinking back.

"Yes, you did," he said vaguely, his hand now searching under his own cloak for the pouch. "And then, Emb--," Aragorn looked down at Emblethor, who now wore the same look he did. Emblethor looked down at his own filthy robes, parting the wrinkled fabric, searching as well. After a moment, he looked back up at Aragorn, now with a look more like Pippin's.

"I--must have _dropped_ them," he said, defeated and wracked with misery.

"It's alright--" Aragorn said hurriedly, though his mind was privately swept into a panic, at these words. "I'll go get them."

Before another word could be spoken, Aragorn climbed back up into the hole, and down the tunnel. 

"They'll be here…they can't have vanished…they'll be there," Aragorn thought breathlessly, crawling through the long, confined space. "They'll be there."

Aragorn practically fell to the ground of the cell, in his thoughts forgetting the tunnel's sudden end. As he lifted his head, he heard the creak and click of armor and saw an indistinct, tall figure standing in the shadows, by the opposite wall, turning at the noise of Aragorn falling. Aragorn scrambled to his feet. An Elf-guard stepped forward, sweeping the shadows away from himself. 

"Hello," he said softly to Aragorn, smirking at the ranger's obvious distress at finding another being in the cell. "Come to visit Emblethor? I'm afraid you've missed him," the Elf's eyes drifted to the hole in the wall, now in plain sight, from where he stood. "Now, where is he?"

Aragorn frowned, stepping back, eyeing the Elf's sword at his side. He was prepared only to keep silent, for this Elf. He allowed his eyes to drop to the floor, surreptitiously scanning it for the lost pouch as the guard stepped forward again.

"What are you looking for?" the guard said, raising his right hand, which was closed in a loose fist, as Aragorn looked up. He opened it without flourish, releasing the pouch of ashes, the string of which was looped around his finger. He dangled the pouch before Aragorn, like a pendulum. "This? You want this? Come and get it."

***End of Part 9*** 


	10. The Beginning

The Difference

by Leafy

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations.

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely based on episodes of the television show, "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.

Thank you for all the great reviews, everybody! :o)

Daphne: Yeah, Legolas' luck may actually be changing…or so it seems. ;o) Thanks for the review!

Europa: Heh, thanks. Yeah, Det sure has caused far more than his fair share of trouble. Thanks for the review, hope this next part's to your liking! :o)

bOOgie: First, let me just say, your English is very impressive. Secondly, I'm sorry, but cliffhangers are far too much fun to write. :o) They're one of the reasons I got into fanfic writing. :o) Don't worry, though, it'll all come out in the end. And yes, Detarmor is definitely NOT a quitter, you've got that right. Thanks for the great review, hope you like the next part. :o) 

**********

**Chapter 10**

**'The Beginning'**

Aragorn flinched in alarm as he saw the pouch fall before his eyes. 

The Elf-guard gathered the cord back up, closing his hand around the pouch again and lowering it to his side.

"Go on," he smiled. "I said, come and get it."

Aragorn, keenly aware of the fact that he, himself was defenseless, let his eyes fall on the gleaming sword, in its sheath at the guard's side. Attacking him would be dangerous, to say the least. Still, what could he do? Their secret passage had been found out, the apparently-only key to Legolas' passage back home had been captured by the enemy. He had to do _something_… 

"No?" the guard said complacently. "Are you sure?" he held up the pouch once more, widening the opening with his fingertips and slowly tilting it, preparing to pour the contents out onto the floor.

Desperate to retrieve the filched pouch and so incredibly fed up with being harassed and bullied that he felt that his face was on fire, Aragorn leaped forward, roaring in rage, bowling the Elf over, grabbing and clawing for the pouch of ashes. He felt his hand close around the soft surface of the pouch, as the Elf struggled, rolling out from under the ranger and scrambling close to the wall, a look of surprised panic on his face. His hands now empty, the guard yanked his sword out of the sheath, thrusting it out at Aragorn, who had frantically shoved the pouch away and out of sight, inside his own cloak. Fending off the new attack, Aragorn extended his hand, grabbing the side of the blade, jerking it and whisking it away from the guard while protecting his own hands. Rising to his feet, he turned the weapon around, aiming it at the guard's neck. The guard, momentarily stunned at losing his sword, got to his feet slowly, in surrender. Aragorn looked at him with acrimony, staying exactly where and as he was. Though he felt nothing but animosity for this Elf, he did not want to kill him. However, he did not know what else to do now. If he released him, the guard surely would not allow Aragorn to proceed back to his own cell, without trouble of some kind.

***

Norgeth frowned to himself, sweating in his sleep. He turned over suddenly, his hair whipping across his face, waking him up from his dozing. He sat up on the bed, looking out his open window at the oncoming dusk. He had it now! How could he have been so ignorant?

That halfling servant who'd seen fit to disturb him just before he took his much-needed rest had been no servant, at all. He was one of the prisoners, he had to be. His clothes had been all ragged and ripped, and he'd looked as if he'd recently lost a fight. _And he'd come in through the window! _He'd left it ajar, most probably in the hopes of making a quick escape, which had obviously been foiled with Norgeth's own presence. 

"But, why?" Norgeth thought agitatedly. If the hobbit, a prisoner, had found a way out of his cell and out to the surrounding forest, why had he not just run off? Why had he come, dangerously jeopardizing his liberty, to Norgeth's private chamber, into the lion's very den? What was he after?

Norgeth looked back into the room, remembering spitefully. _The fire…_

That hobbit hadn't been able to keep his little fingers out of the ashes of the extinguished fire. He'd looked like he wanted something from them--or of them. He'd been looking for the braid, or whatever was left of it, Norgeth realized with slightly paranoid consternation. Why? Why was everyone after that wretched braid? This hobbit had tried to steal it, Emblethor had tried to steal it…

And then, he knew. Norgeth remembered the many times he'd seen his colleague practice the healing portal, the type of portal he'd made for Legolas, against Norgeth's commands. Norgeth remembered asking him once, after seeing a little opossum vanish into the light, how one might reverse the effects of the portal.

"Well," Emblethor had said, in his constantly, maddeningly ambivalent tone, "you'd need something of the claimed one, to do that."

_They'd all been after the braid because they were after Legolas! They were going to bring that Ringbearing Elf back, then use his power to defeat Norgeth!_

Norgeth sprang from the bed, hurrying to the door of his room, flinging it open, and running down the hall, leaving the guards of the outer hall staring blankly after him, though Norgeth did not care, or even notice. He had to see the fellowship again, find out what was going on, what they were doing. 

***

"Give it back," the Elf guard said unsteadily, extending his hand for the sword. "You can do nothing without the result of even more trouble, now."

"Silence," Aragorn snarled, swiping at his hand with the sword. The Elf quickly withdrew the hand, not wishing to have his palm sliced open. "Don't move."

"What do you think you can do?" the guard persisted softly. "I cannot remain your prisoner forever. Eventually, someone else will come through there," he indicated the closed but unlocked door behind Aragorn. 

Quickly, Aragorn approached it, jamming the sword into the space between the door and the wall, as a temporary means of locking it, to correct the guard's threat. As he did this, he suddenly felt the Elf guard's arms grab him at his flanks, pulling him off his feet and allowing him to fall hard onto his side on the stone floor. Aragorn rolled over, opening his eyes to see the guard reach forward, yanking the sword back out from the wall and opening the door, preparing to call out for help. Aragorn kicked the door shut again with his foot, reaching up and snatching the sword's blade, ripping it out of the guard's hands once more. He put it back in place as a temporary lock with one bleeding hand, as the door's slam was attracting more guards, he knew. With his other hand, he punched the guard behind him in the face, knocking him onto his back and giving himself a chance to get to his feet again. The guard scrambled back up as well, striking Aragorn in return and shoving him backward, then lurching for the sword again. Aragorn lunged forward with more force than he'd gauged, due to his almost falling over backwards from the shove. He knocked into the Elf, getting him away from the sword-lock and slamming him back down onto the floor with equal, if not more, force. The Elf's mouth dropped open silently as Aragorn got up, looking down at his closed eyes. He delicately touched the incapacitated one, checking to see how much damage had been done. It quickly became clear to him that the guard was only unconscious, not dead. Now was his chance…

Suddenly, Aragorn heard a crash, and looked up to see the door shift on its hinges, the sword wobbling in weak obstruction. Outside, Aragorn could hear many voices, all speaking urgently to one another in Elvish, as more blows were delivered to the door. The other guards were now trying to get in, and were much alarmed to find that they couldn't.

Aragorn turned and threw himself back into the hole, his hand clutching at the pouch of ashes under his cloak. Now was his _only_ chance…

***

"I've found them," Aragorn said swiftly, climbing through the hole and regaining his feet. "Only, we haven't a moment to lose--"

He stopped speaking as he was confronted with a very grave-looking Sam, standing just in front of him, separate from the rest of the prisoners, who were clustered a few paces behind the hobbit, in a far corner of the cell. 

"It's Emblethor," the hobbit choked out, gesturing to the group as Aragorn hurried past him. "He's--"

As Aragorn came forward the assemblage parted, revealing Emblethor, slumped against the wall, his eyes closed, his head bowed. His complexion was so sallow now, that it looked almost yellow.

"He went like this just after you left," Pippin said fearfully at Aragorn's side, dropping the Elf's limp hand back into his lap. "Nothing we've done seems to have any effect. We don't know if he's just fainted, or--" he faltered, unable to speak more.

"It's true," Gandalf said hoarsely, backing away. 

"Can _you_ help him?" Frodo asked Aragorn, moving away for the ranger as well.

Aragorn kneeled down in front of Emblethor's motionless body, looking at his eyelids, willing them to lift. He looked more closely at the wound, the surface area of which, due to the blood flow, covered quite a large space, now.

"Emblethor," he said softly, urgently, the sound of the splintering door and the thunderous shouts of the guards at the other end of the tunnel reaching his ears. He placed his hand on the Elf's collarbone, which he found to be like ice. He couldn't be dead, he couldn't die now…"Wake up, Emblethor…_please_." 

**********

_"Well, hello again," Sam said as Legolas climbed into the cell, the light disappearing behind him. "That was a quick audience."_

_"That was no audience," Legolas said shakily, sitting against the wall and dropping his head into his hands briefly. _

_"Oh? What happened?" Sam asked, covert concern leaking into his voice as he leaned forward._

_"Quite a bit," Legolas responded. "Detarmor convinced Frodo that I should die. He told him that I was aggressive, after the Ring."_

_"And you corrected him?" Sam replied apprehensively. _

_"As soon as I was able to," Legolas sighed, leaning back against the wall. "Much to Detarmor's chagrin. I believe Frodo will not be keeping him under his service very much longer."_

_"Really?"__ Sam said quietly. "You did it?"_

_"At least a portion of it.__ I don't know what he'll do with the Ring. And, I did put in a good word for you," he smiled over at the hobbit, who might have been blushing, or just grinning bashfully in the hazy light of the cell._

_"Well, that was kind," Sam replied._

_***_

_"Wake up."_

_Legolas__ started, feeling a hand wrap around his arm and drag him out of his sleep-state, and toward the hallway._

_"What--what is it?" Legolas whispered in surprise. _

_"An audience with Lord Frodo," Dentil's familiar voice registered again. "A real one, this time."_

_Legolas__ opened his eyes, squinting into the still-dim (but lighter than his cell) hallway as he was drawn out into the hall, bending over at the waist and stepping unsteadily under the low threshold and back into an area with a reasonable ceiling. Dentil stepped back, taking a silent cue and making his way back down the hall, towards the throne room. Legolas turned his head to look after him in confusion, and found himself confronted with Frodo, looking very unhappy._

_"I've been to the kitchens," the hobbit said, looking past Legolas, at the now-relatively inactive kitchen area, shut down until breakfast. "Without Detarmor. You were right. Around me, they were kind and courteous, very polite and accommodating. But, I could sense how they really live, how they act and are treated when I'm not around. Lissie only commands when she is told or unencumbered, as you said. I could feel a terrible fear about them all, a secret dread about what--or whom--I might bring. It was dreadful. No one should live that way," he looked back up at Legolas with deeply sorrowful eyes. "I want to destroy It. I want to destroy It more than anything…I believe I always have, it was just--all of this…" he bowed his head again._

_"What about Detarmor?" Legolas asked softly, not allowing himself to become too hopeful yet._

_"I've fired him," Frodo said without looking up. "And imprisoned him elsewhere."_

_Legolas__ felt himself smile in admiration at Frodo's apparent courage. _

_"So--you will destroy the Ring, now?" he asked at length._

_"Yes," Frodo replied, meeting his eye again. "But I have one more request to make of you."_

_"What?" Legolas said._

_"You must come with me," Frodo said softly, looking at him with the same scared, wide-eyed attention Legolas had seen him bestow on Detarmor. _

_***_

_"This has certainly been the most eventful night I've seen in a while," Sam said softly, gazing out the intricate front window at the rising sun outside, as he was led into the throne room. He turned to look at the thrones, and stopped dead in his tracks, as he found himself confronted with Frodo and Legolas as the guards turned and left. He gasped a bit in surprise as he gazed at Frodo, who looked back at him, with a mixture of sadness, shame, and fright._

_"Sam…" he said quietly._

_"F-frodo?"__ Sam whispered, unmoving from his spot on the floor, his eyes moving from Frodo's face, to the neckline of his shirt, then back to his face, whose look Sam had now unintentionally adopted._

_"I'm--sorry," Frodo said, the incredible inadequacy of this statement searing his pitiful tone. "I'm so sorry…"_

_Sam came forward timidly as Frodo spoke, and Legolas could see a look of faint possibility in his eyes, the slightest familiar shred of the openness and sanguinity that had appeared briefly on first seeing Legolas, reappearing weakly in his gaze. He maintained this look at Frodo, seeming lost for words, or a sufficient reaction. He stepped a bit closer as he looked into Frodo's face and found that he really saw Frodo looking back now, for the first time in so long a time, Sam couldn't remember. He did not see the Ring there, or any of the aggression and hate that came with it, or anything of Detarmor, or the suspicion and debility that came with him; he saw only Frodo, as he now was._

_"It's alright," he replied hoarsely, all of the lonely time spent in the windowless cell, being oppressed by the guards and by the Ring, forgotten. Without another word, he pulled Frodo into a hug, which Frodo weakly returned, his body now quaking with silent, much-retained until now weeping. "It's alright."_

_Legolas__ watched in silence as the two stood unmoving for a moment, in their long-overdue embrace. _

_"Sam," Frodo said after a moment, pulling back to look into his face. "I have something I want to tell you…and something I want to ask of you."_

_"Yes?" Sam whispered, the smile on his face showing Legolas that he clearly knew both of the things Frodo wanted to say._

_"I am going to destroy the Ring," Frodo said quietly. "Legolas is going to help me, but I want, more than anything, for you to come, too."_

_Sam's smile broadened, not entirely happily, but more peacefully at Frodo's words._

_"Of course, I'll come," he replied softly. _

_***_

_"I suppose it's wise to do this in so secretive a manner," Legolas said softly, giving Frodo a leg-up onto his horse, then helping Sam up behind him. _

_"Definitely," Frodo replied as Legolas climbed onto the second horse, beside Frodo and Sam's. "Merry's going to have a bit of a surprise when he wakes up. Still, I think he's always wanted to try his hand at ruling," Frodo looked down at the ground in thought, then back up at Legolas. "Though not so greatly as Detarmor has wished it, obviously." _

_"What are you going to do with him?" Sam questioned quietly behind Frodo, as the horse set off, away from the castle and into the forest. _

_"I don't know," Frodo said without turning around. He still seemed slightly troubled at the mention of his former advisor. "I suppose I should have him banished or--executed," Frodo seemed like he barely wanted to contemplate the last option, for anyone. "But, I feel that in giving up the Ring, I'm giving up my power, and I really don't have the right to…"_

_"But, if you don't, then who does?" Sam replied, moving his head around, next to Frodo. "Who will lead? I remember what Detarmor did to you. Without him and without the Ring, perhaps you can be an even better leader."_

_"Perhaps I can be a **leader**," Frodo mumbled, smiling bashfully at Sam, then redirecting his attention to Legolas, a few paces in front of them, on his own horse. "Do you know where we're going?"_

_"Don't worry," Legolas turned back, smiling as if he hadn't heard a word the hobbits had said (mostly for the hobbits' benefit). "I know these lands well. I shall be able to lead us to Mordor from where we are now, by the easiest route possible, though even that won't be too easy."_

_"Well, that's fine," Frodo replied, looking around at the trees around them, of the forest that widely surrounded the castle. "Just so long as you can lead us. Because I'm already lost."_

_***End of Part 10_


	11. The End

The Difference

by Leafy

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations.

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely based on episodes of the television show, "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.

Thank you for the great reviews, everybody! :o)

Moonfairy2000: I'm glad you like this story! Hope you like this next part! :o)

Shauna: Thanks for the review! Yeah, another cliffhanger. And the cliffhangers aren't over yet…;o) Thanks again, and hope you like this new chapter! :o) 

**Sorry it took me so long to update! **

**********

"Alas! Alas! The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told." - Legolas, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

**Chapter 11**

**'The End'**

_"What's going on?" Merry demanded, hurrying into the room in the hall, that joined to the prisons, kitchens, and bedchambers. "Where's Lord Frodo?"_

_"My Lord?"__ Hetegen rose from his seat quickly, coming over to the angry and alarmed hobbit standing in the doorway. "He is not here?"_

_"Of course, he's not!" Merry snapped, turning on his heel and quickly making his way back into the empty throne room. "Look!" _

_"Perhaps he is still in his chamber--," the Elf-guard began. _

_"No, he's not!" Merry sniffed, turning to face him. "I've already looked there! He's gone."_

_"My Lord…" Hetegen gestured as respectfully as he could at Frodo's vacant throne, behind Merry. On the seat of it, leaned against the seatback, was a folded piece of paper, with Merry's name written on the front. _

_Clenching his teeth to conceal his feelings of foolishness at missing this, Merry turned around and snatched up the paper, unfolding it and reading it silently to himself. When he was finished, he lowered the paper, a stunned look, struggling to appear calm, on his face. _

_"It's alright," Merry said quietly. "He's gone away for a while, but he will return, when he is able to. He has taken the two in the old prison cell with him, he says they are innocent and deserve their freedom. He has also thrown Detarmor into the upper prison."_

_"I see, my Lord," Hetegen replied softly, nodding his head, unable to be too surprised at the news of Detarmor, for he had suspected a problem there for a long time. _

_"Very well then," Merry said, as if to himself, folding the paper back up and putting it away inside his robes. "You may go back to--"_

_"Lord Merry!" Vodelin came charging suddenly through the doorway at the opposite wall._

_"What?" Merry turned around, quite startled at the sudden noise._

_"It's--Detarmor," Vodelin panted. "He resisted us when we tried to put him in the prison. He has escaped us, and the castle," Vodelin looked up at Merry in mortified distress, and Merry saw that he had a cut on his face, from his brow to his eyelid, and blood was running into his eye as he spoke._

_"He's--armed?" Merry gasped, looking with no anger, only pity and dread, on Vodelin's drained form. _

_"Yes, my Lord," Vodelin replied, seeming more troubled than ever. "He took my sword from me."_

_Merry's__ eyes fell with great fear on Vodelin's empty sheath at his side, which looked like it had almost been ripped off his belt, in the attempt to claim the weapon. This was horrible…_

_Merry's__ mind immediately went to the words Frodo had written to him about Detarmor, in the brief letter he'd left._

_"It has become clear in a most unsavory manner that Detarmor desires the Ring, and will do anything he needs to, to get it. I have removed him from his position, and have him thrown into prison."_

_Detarmor__ wanted the Ring…that was why he had never left Frodo alone, even for a second when he w as in command, and that was why he refused to be peacefully put into prison. He wanted the Ring…_

_"Hetegen," Merry looked up sharply at the Elf at his other side, "wake the other guards. Lord Frodo is in danger."_

_***_

_"This is quite a pretty place," Frodo said, looking up as the sun shone through the spaces between the leaves in the branches above his head. "I can't remember the last time I left the palace."_

_Legolas__ smiled back, but then turned back around, saying nothing. The whole of the land was a good deal nicer in the Middle-Earth he'd left, than it was in this land, enslaved by the Ring as it was._

_"I've wanted to ask you," Frodo continued, driving his and Sam's horse up closer to Legolas's. "I did not entirely grasp what you meant when you claimed to be from 'another realm of Middle-Earth'. And, based at least on your physical appearance, I'd like very much to know exactly where you're from."_

_"Oh, don't start him off on that!" Sam chuckled behind Frodo. "Unless you're starved for something imaginative!"_

_Legolas__ smirked in return at Sam. He'd never known Sam was capable of such forward, lighthearted banter. _

_"Come now, where are you from?" Frodo repeated, laughing along with Sam. _

_Legolas__ paused, taking a deep breath. He supposed there was nothing else to talk about, at the moment…_

_"I…have come from another realm of Middle-Earth--another dimension of it," he said haltingly, knowing of no more believable way to phrase it. _

_Frodo's__ eyes widened, and he leaned forward a bit on his horse, at this statement. _

_"What do you mean?" he said. "You are **another** Legolas? From another Middle-Earth?"_

_"Another version of it," Legolas nodded. "I do not truly understand how it works, myself. I was accidentally brought here by a strange spell."_

_"A spell?"__ Frodo said vaguely._

_"Yes," Legolas shifted on his horse, gazing back at the trees before them. _

_"And, what makes this Middle-Earth differ from the one you left? How do you know it is not just part of the same?" Frodo asked, seeming to try to maintain the joking atmosphere Legolas was trying to abandon, for the sake of his argument. _

_"Because, I know Frodo, in the other one," Legolas responded. "I know all of the fellowship. I am one of them."_

_Frodo__ fell silent for a moment, looking with shocked curiosity at Legolas._

_"Truly?"__ Frodo whispered. "What are they like?"_

_"Yes--he didn't tell me **this** bit," Sam added quietly._

_"They are much, I imagine, as you are, without the continual influence of the Ring," Legolas replied amiably. "Though, we were all on a path different from this one."_

_"You have destroyed the Ring?" Frodo's voice rose in surprise._

_"Not yet," Legolas said. "But that is what we were doing. When I was taken. I only hope that that is still what they are doing."_

_"What else would they be doing?" Sam asked._

_Legolas__ paused, looking at the ground beneath his horse's hooves, then back at the forest in front of him._

_"They might try to find me," he said finally. "I was taken by a strange, bright portal, and they might be trying to find a way to reverse its effects. I only hope they are not, because there were two Elves who seemed to be responsible for its creation--a small, fragile-looking one, and another, much greater, more menacing. From what I last saw of the first one, his chances of survival seem slim. And the other is a greatly dangerous being. He intensely covets the Ring."_

_"Like Detarmor?" Frodo muttered, returning his gaze to the trees aligned with the horizon as well, then suddenly being thrown from his horse as it reared up, shrieking in startling panic._

_"**Exactly** like Detarmor, I imagine," a familiar, dreadful voice jeered from the ground before them._

_Legolas__ leaped from his horse, which quickly, fearfully followed the other into the trees, now that they were rid of their riders. So fast it was almost unobservable, Legolas drew his returned bow, loaded and aimed dangerously, at Detarmor._

_"Leave," Legolas said severely. Detarmor responded by reaching forward in annoyance, swatting the tip of the arrow upwards and stalking past Legolas, to Frodo, who had scrambled to his feet, Sam at his side. _

_"How could you?" Detarmor whispered, leaning down in front of Frodo. "How could you do this? How could you expect this to be for the best? The Ring is all there is for you!"_

_As he spoke, Legolas approached quickly from behind, but froze as he saw Detarmor, between him and Frodo, pull a long sword, smeared with blood, into view. Frodo looked at it nervously, stumbling back a bit, but remaining silent. Legolas repositioned his bow, but didn't dare to move, for Frodo's sake. Sam took Frodo's arm protectively, though he looked less than sure of himself, too._

_"Speak!" Detarmor shouted suddenly, gripping the handle of the sword ever tighter. "Tell me why! I want to know why!"_

_"The Ring is not for good, Detarmor," Frodo said, fighting to sound stolid. "It was not created for good, and cannot be used for good."_

_Detarmor's__ back stiffened at this, and he turned vaguely to Legolas, then back to Frodo, before a move could be made. _

_"You've listened to **him**?" Detarmor barked at Frodo, insulted and infuriated. "You believed his lies? Why should you do that? Who is he to tell you how to rule, what to do with the Ring? The Ring does not belong to **him**!"_

_"Nor does it belong to you," Frodo replied, becoming more sure of himself, as he became more sure of the truth. "It is not your decision to make. It never was, and it will never be."_

_"Now, leave him alone!" Sam spoke up angrily, batting the tip of Detarmor's sword away in the same manner in which Detarmor had disarmed Legolas, and walking with Frodo past him, back over to the prince._

_Detarmor's__ mouth was open to speak as he watched them, but he seemed unable to think of what to say. Reason had left him. He turned to the hobbits. _

_"I will not let you do this!" he cried, as Frodo picked up the pack that had fallen off the horse and began to approach the far edge of the clearing with Sam, away from Detarmor, to prove his point. "I will not allow this to happen!"_

_Frodo__ said nothing; he did not even turn around at these challenging words. _

_"**Frodo**!"__ Detarmor ran forward suddenly, but Legolas stepped out in front of him, clutching his ready bow. Detarmor shoved Legolas away forcefully, sending him down onto the forest floor, his bow and arrow flying out of his arms as he hit the ground, landing out of his reach. _

_Detarmor__ reached Frodo, digging his nails into the hobbit's shoulder as he tried to turn him around. Frodo cried out in surprise and in pain at this, struggling to free himself from Detarmor, to stop himself from being steered back. Without a word, Sam drew his own sword, slicing into Detarmor's arm. It was Detarmor's turn to cry out now, clutching his bleeding arm, which still held the sword, as Legolas got to his feet a few paces away, drawing his knives, observing it carefully. This was either a very good sign, or a very bad one._

_"See what you've done," Detarmor panted, bringing his arm in front of Frodo, who recoiled. "Look what you've done."_

_Frodo__ looked up into his face, gravely serious, hateful of the conniving one._

_"Go away," he said to Detarmor. "You no longer have a place with me. I **will** destroy the Ring."_

_"You w--," Detarmor stammered, releasing his own arm, now fully furious at Frodo's seeming impudence and foolishness. "You won't!" he raised the sword._

_"Leave them be!" Legolas bellowed, rushing at him from behind. Instantly, Detarmor spun around with his weapon, thrusting it out blindly. Frodo saw Legolas come within arm's reach of Detarmor, between them, then suddenly halt unclasping his hands around his knives and dropping them, making an odd noise of surprise, perhaps even fright. He looked down, his long hair falling in front of his face, and the form of Detarmor blocking what had happened from Frodo's view, though he sensed with a nauseous dread what it was._

_Legolas__ looked down in silence, at the sword's blade buried in the front of his tunic. It had gone in quite far, even coming out the other side. Legolas could feel his own blood running like water down his back, as it began to flow from the wound in front as well. He looked back up at Detarmor in incredulity, not at Detarmor's capability of doing something like this, but at his own capability of simply letting it happen, however accidentally._

_"**No**!" Frodo cried, meaning to run to Legolas' side, but stopping himself clumsily as he saw Legolas raise his knives once more. Breathing heavily, the prince gripped the handles of the knives, swinging them through the air and letting them bite into Detarmor's flesh, that was within reach. Detarmor gave an agonized yell, erratically heaving the sword out of Legolas as he, himself, fell back onto the ground, his blood seeping through his tunic and the holes that had been torn through it, in the successful knife attack. Detarmor raised his head with difficulty, looking at Frodo, who had now reached Legolas, and way eye-level with the prince's wound. Feeling the dying Detarmor's gaze, he turned his head, albeit unwillingly._

_"It had to be done," Detarmor croaked, indicating the tremulous Legolas standing next to Frodo. "But this did not," Detarmor's hand made a tearing clutch for his own death-dealing wounds, then his whole form slumped back flat on the ground, all life in him, gone. _

_Legolas__ wordlessly collapsed to his knees now, falling onto his side, on the cold, frosted ground. Frodo dropped down next to Legolas, and Sam dropped down next to Frodo. _

_"No…" Frodo whispered, grasping Legolas' shoulder as Legolas turned over onto his back, groaning in pain, trying to cup his hand over his wound._

_In reaction, Frodo moved his own hand over the wound as if to examine it, but halted in midair, realizing that he would only be plunging his hand into the pool of blood gathered and spilling off of Legolas' chest. He instead reached down and took Legolas' clean hand in both of his, unable to speak, for grief. _

_"Legolas," he breathed, "Legolas, please…" he couldn't speak more. His own head was growing light, his breath coming short. He couldn't believe it. It was happening again…**again**. It was happening again--and it was his own fault…again. Frodo bowed his head as the tears ran more liberally down his face. _

_Legolas__ turned his face to Frodo, blinking hazily as he observed the hobbit in misery. Though he, himself was in such pain that breath did not come easily, he knew he had to speak now. He knew this was not an injury from which he could recover, and he couldn't let Frodo make the same mistake twice, especially for the same reason._

_"I'm sorry," Frodo said unevenly, looking dazedly down at the wound, then fearfully and sorrowfully at Legolas. "I'm sorry."_

_"It's not your fault," Legolas managed, straining to speak, and to cover the wound with the hand that was already over top of it.. Frodo looked back down at it, weeping._

_"Frodo," he said softly. Frodo's wet eyes moved back to his. "What did he say?" Legolas asked him. "What did Legolas say to you after he was hurt, while he was dying?"_

_"N-nothing," Frodo murmured. "He couldn't speak."_

_"What do you think he'd have said, if he could have spoken?" Legolas persisted, trying to keep himself from shivering as he felt the warmth of his own blood running away onto the leaves. "Do you think he'd have blamed you? Do you think he'd have been angry? What would he have said?"_

_Frodo__ opened his mouth a bit, his face growing distressed as he halted in speaking, considering what Legolas had said._

_"This wasn't your fault," Legolas continued. "Neither was your Legolas' death. He did not die because of you. By his own choice, did he come with you. He died **for** you, for all of you. That's the difference," Legolas let out a sigh. "I'm sorry that I cannot continue on with you. But, destroy the Ring, Frodo. You must. You know it is the only way. You can still do it," his thinning voice grew encouraging with these words. "You still have Sam. You can find the way."_

_Sam took hold of Frodo's arm again, out of compassion, and his own need for companionship, as the two of them looked down at Legolas. Frodo clenched his jaw shut as he nodded in silent promise to Legolas. Legolas smiled, looking back up through the trees, through the leaves that Frodo had found so pleasant. _

_Frodo__ got up from his kneeling posture, approaching the center of the clearing and stooping shakily to retrieve Legolas' bow from where it had inadvertently been flung when Detarmor had knocked him to the ground. Straightening up, Frodo turned back to Legolas, coming over and laying the slim weapon in the prince's hand that was not covering his wound. Sam, catching on fast, gathered Legolas' knives from where they'd landed on the ground behind them, sliding them back into the sheaths for him. _

_Though Legolas could feel his weapons being returned to him, he made no reaction, verbal or physical. He felt so weak, so tired…he couldn't move. And now, he felt that he didn't have to. His eyes drifted shut. The sun seemed suddenly to have become too bright to look at. Unseeing, unmoving, Legolas allowed himself to surrender to his injury._

_"Legolas--," Frodo leaned forward a bit as the prince shut his eyes. Frodo's own eyes grew wider in alarmed distress as he found that he could feel no breath, however faint, issuing from between Legolas' parted lips. "Legolas!"_

_***End of Part 11_

Author's Note: Despite the name of this chapter, it's not over yet! We have one chapter to go! :o) See you then!


	12. As It Should Be

The Difference

by Leafy

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations.

Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely based on episodes of the television show, "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.

I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.

Thank you for all the fabulous reviews, everybody! :o)

**Due to the content of this chapter, I've relocated my responses to all of your wonderful reviews, to the end of it. I advise you to read the chapter before you read my responses, as they contain SPOILERS! :o)**

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"Where once was light/Now darkness falls/Where once was love/Love is no more/Don't say - goodbye/Don't say - I didn't try… - Emiliana Torrini, "Gollum's Song"

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Chapter 12

'As It Should Be'

__

Frodo slumped back on the ground beside Legolas' lifeless body, shielding his face with his hands as tears fell into them. He was gone…

"Mister Frodo," Sam said hesitantly, touching Frodo's arm.

"What?" Frodo whispered, not moving his face back into view.

"Look," Sam's tone was more bewildered than mournful.

Frodo looked up at Sam, seeing him pointing down at Legolas' body. Frodo looked back down at it in mystification, wondering what could possibly be so important that Sam would want him to dwell on the sad image now. As soon as he looked, though, Frodo saw it, though he could not understand it. 

Legolas was covered in a soft, colorless light. It had somehow furtively encased his entire form, and had risen a few feet over him. It rose still higher, then paused just as Frodo looked up, and it began to fall back down, quite rapidly, shrinking in on itself. Instinctively, Frodo edged back a bit, looking in frightened amazement at Legolas' dead form, turning almost invisible as the new light brightened.

"What is it?" Sam called out, more in anxiety than in desire for an actual answer.

Before Frodo could respond (not that he could have responded authoritatively), the light grew blinding, and his eyes shut reflexively, as he fell back onto the ground in blinded surprise. Recovering himself, Frodo stood up and looked about, but saw only Sam in front of him, on the ground, looking with near fright and perplexity at the leaves on the ground that, though bloodied, contained no other trace of Legolas. The Elf had vanished.

"What's happened?" Sam gasped as he leaped to his feet, again mostly just to keep his fear in check.

"The light--," Frodo said vaguely, stepping closer and looking at the ground. "The light--"

Suddenly, there was another great flash and Frodo felt something large and unexpected fall across his feet, causing him to lose his balance and fall on top of it.

There was a surprised exclamation from underneath him as he came into contact with it, and Frodo felt whatever he'd fallen on spring into action, scurrying out into the open. Falling out of the way, Frodo looked up in time to see a strange male Elf, rather short and scrawny by Elven standards, scramble to his feet. The Elf looked down at his own chest briefly, patting the upper half down with his hands, though there seemed, to Frodo at least, to be nothing extraordinary about it. The strange Elf then looked back up at the hobbits, who stared back at him, speechless.

The Elf opened his mouth to speak, though he looked quite disoriented, himself. As if he suddenly realized that he had nothing to say, the Elf closed his mouth again, quite abruptly, reaching into and drawing something out from under his tattered robes. Frodo got quickly to his feet, as did Sam behind him.

Tossing the small and obviously light thing onto the ground in front of Frodo, the Elf turned and took off out of the clearing, heading deeper into the forest.

"Stop!" Sam cried falteringly, and he ran up to the edge of the trees, but then turned back to Frodo, who, instead of giving chase, was bent over, retrieving the apparent gift the strange being had left. Sam approached Frodo, looking at him with curiosity and worry. "What is that?"

Frodo said nothing, but brought the pouch up to his and Sam's eyes, for closer inspection. He opened the drawstring top easily, peering into the dark interior, then pouring a bit of the contents out into his hand. Fine gray ashes landed in a tiny pile there. Frodo frowned.

"What does this mean?" Sam said softly, clinging to the hope that his friend was simply more knowledgeable than he, in this matter. "Who was that? Where is Legolas?"

Frodo dumped the ashes in his hand back into the pouch. He didn't quite grasp what they had to do with the situation, but he felt that they'd played a definite, important part, and were given to the two of them as an explanation, by the strange Elf. As for the strange Elf, and the light, Frodo had a much clearer idea. 

"Home," Frodo said softly. "Legolas was taken home. The light that claimed him was the portal of which he spoke, and the Elf, the smaller one that he told us about."

"Not the dangerous one?" Sam said in bewilderment. 

Before Frodo could answer negatively, four horses bearing familiar Elf-guards surfaced through the trees, halting as they came upon the scene. The one in the middle, whom Frodo recognized as Hetegen, dismounted and came forward, looking worriedly at the fallen Detarmor, and the blood in two pools on the ground as Frodo hastily concealed the pouch of ashes inside his robes. 

"My Lord," Hetegen said softly. "Are you alright? Has this scoundrel--"

"It's alright now, Hetegen," Frodo returned quietly, looking over with gloomy recall at Detarmor's ruined, inert body on the ground. "He came for us, but as you can see, we were not defenseless. All the same, it was foolish of me to leave so hurriedly. Lord Meriadoc is at the palace?"

"At our advising, my Lord," Hetegen replied, then turned to Detarmor, looking down at the criminal solemnly. "What shall we do with him?"

Frodo's dark look as he gazed down at Detarmor lessened, with an element of consideration added. 

"Take him back," he said, without looking at the guard. "Bury him in the graveyard there. I do not think he has a land to go back to, nor any people that miss him."

"Yes, my Lord," Hetegen said, turning back and lifting Detarmor up off the ground, approaching one of the now-riderless horses, and delicately laying the dead Elf on its back, then mounting behind him. 

As Hetegen was occupied with this, Frodo's own attention wandered to the ground where Detarmor had been lifted. Despite the heavy fall, there was no imprint left on the leaves. There was some blood from his torso wounds to mark the spot, but not half so much as what Legolas had left. Still, there was something interesting on the ground there. Something possibly pleasing.

Frodo hurried to the spot, whisking the thin, sturdy, unused arrow off the ground and straightening up. It was Legolas' arrow, the one that had been meant for Detarmor. It would serve a much better purpose, now, Frodo felt. As he held it in his hand, he knew that he would never forget the other Legolas, or what he'd done and said, while he was there. He would keep this arrow as he would keep the ashes, as something to remember him by, for the rest of his own days. 

"You will come back with us, my Lord?" Hetegen spoke up, looking at Frodo again as Detarmor was established as secure in front of him, on the horse.

"Yes," Frodo said, tucking the arrow away, his eyes straying to the last meager pack of supplies at the edge of the clearing, that hadn't been lost with their horses. "Sam and I will. We won't be staying long, though. We're aren't finished."

**********

Aragorn's head began to spin as he looked with chagrined amazement at the spot where Emblethor had been just an instant ago. As the telltale light had vanished, so had he_._

Emblethor had gone through the portal! He hadn't told them he was going to do that. True, he only just managed to regain enough consciousness to combine efforts with Gandalf, to launch the portal, and conversation was unlikely, but how could he have thought to do that? How could he have left them here like this, without the slightest warning?

"Legolas!" 

Aragorn spun back from the wall at the sound of Frodo, calling the startling name, and was confronted with a much more startling, though also much more welcome sight; Legolas was sitting up on the floor in the center of the cell, looking confused and unsettled.

"What's happened?" Legolas gasped, scrambling to his feet. He suddenly bowed his head, looking in fixed amazement at his chest, his hands straying to and stretching at the fabric of his tunic, to get a look at the condition of his torso. There was no sword wound left there now. There was no blood there. There wasn't even a rip in the cloth of his clothes. 

"You're alright!" Frodo exclaimed, coming forward to look with relief upon Legolas' baffled form. Legolas looked up, into the eyes of the Frodo he knew, and suddenly, he understood what had happened.

He'd been brought back. Somehow, the fellowship had managed to create another portal and bring him back here, back home. That was what all the light in his eyes had been in the clearing. And, it was the portal bringing him back that had saved him, that had brought him back from death, healing his wound as it had healed the cut on his face and his reduced braid, when he'd been sent through the portal, the first time. 

Almost before Legolas had time to register all of these thoughts, the heavy wooden door of his new environment swung open, banging loudly as it collided with the wall in the opener's haste. Legolas turned in frightened unison with the rest of the fellowship, and was confronted with the one remaining Elf that Legolas detested, even feared.

Norgeth stood in the doorway, looking horribly displeased, even more so as he took in the scene in front of him. His eyes grew wide and fierce as he saw Legolas in the center of the room, surrounded by the others. 

"So, this is the trick you thought could save you!" Norgeth exclaimed, whipping out his familiar, evil knife from under his robes and glaring around at them frantically, then running at Pippin, who had the misfortune to be close enough to reach, and newly-seen enough for Norgeth to specifically remember his injustice. 

Pippin's own eyes grew wide in fright as the enraged Elf leaped at him like a tiger, his blade up. Pippin staggered back to get out of range, though he couldn't hope to move fast enough to save himself. Just as they moved, there was a familiar hiss, and Norgeth fell to the ground at the terrified hobbit's feet, dropping his blade and clutching at his throat, from which protruded one of Legolas' arrows. He let out a slight choking noise, looking up and around at Legolas before his own body stiffened slightly, and he fell back on the ground, dead.

The others turned to look in obliged surprise at Legolas, who lowered his bow, quite unsettled by what he'd just had to do. He had no idea what was going on now, where they were, and he couldn't see why that malicious Elf had focused his fury on poor Pippin. All he'd been able to see just then was the familiar blade, aimed at his innocent comrade. 

And again, there was no time to clear the confusion. Just as Norgeth froze and fell, a sudden outpouring of Elf-guards erupted from the wall to Legolas' left, leaping through the hole, their swords raised and glinting.

"Come!" Aragorn's voice sounded, and Legolas saw him dash out of the open cell door, the others at his heels. 

As Legolas ran out last, Aragorn pushed past him, slamming the cell door shut before more than a thrown sword got through after them, and shoving the wide, heavy iron bar at the door's midsection down into its horizontal position, locking the guards in. Though this was not the actual, complete locking process for the door, it was all Aragorn had time for, and all he could see how to do, just then. 

"This way!" he said, scooping up the sword and running down the hall to the other cell door, which looked like it had taken a severe beating before allowing the Elves through. Despite the hobbit-sized hole in the lower half of it, Aragorn slammed this door shut as well, and bolted it in the same fashion as the first, before taking off down the remaining stretch of hall, toward what he prayed was the front room, the fellowship again in pursuit. 

***

It was fortunate, Aragorn knew, that the place was so small, as indeed, the biggest obstacle he came across in reaching the throne room was a rickety set of wooden stairs, leading up to ground level. Once there, the fellowship found themselves inside the familiar front room, the door within sight, and all of their weapons still piled on the floor next to Norgeth's chair, just inside of it.

But this was not the end of trouble. Though most of the guards were probably impeded by the makeshift prison under the room, there were still quite enough guards on this level to pose a threat, and all of them came running as the fellowship thundered up the stairs and across the room, reclaiming what had been taken from them. 

Tossing the Elf-guard's sword down underneath Norgeth's chair, Aragorn snatched up his own much missed sword from the pile, tossing the others their weapons in turn, then returning Gandalf's staff to him as he straightened up, and the Elves reached them.

Aragorn ducked under a swung sword's blade, swinging back and crashing the flat end of the blade into the ribcage of his attacking foe. Legolas quickly put away his bow, drawing his knives and joining the fray somewhat unwillingly and still slightly confused, calling out firmly in the Elvish languages, pleading with these enemies to stop their attack, to let them go.

"We do not wish you harm," he insisted, jumping lightly onto the elevated section of the floor. "We wish only for our freedom. Let us go!"

Dodging a very large sword aimed at the top of his shoulder, Pippin lashed at his assailant's leg with his own diminutive sword, succeeding in the incapacitation attempt, then jerking back and turning around, spotting a small door at the far wall. The little door had been opened, apparently hesitantly, as it didn't yet touched the wall. Clustered inside of the doorway were several of the hobbit-servants Pippin had spied in the kitchen. Obviously attracted by all of the noise, they were looking out at the scene in cautious, frightened amazement. One of them, the one who'd scolded Pippin about the dishes, sensed Pippin's startled gaze and met his eye.

"Run!" Pippin called to him, desperately trying to be heard over the noise. "Go! Now is your chance!"

"Watch out!" the one in front responded, charging into the room as Pippin ducked out of the way of another blow from another guard, armed with a disconcerting, serrated sword.

Pippin locked blades with the Elf, who easily pushed him to his knees on the floor. As Pippin struggled, sinking closer to the ground, he looked behind him for help. He saw the small group of hobbits, somehow unnoticed by the guards, pulling the heavy front doors open. There was a sudden burst of strength on his enemy's end, and Pippin was forced to look back, bringing the hand that was not occupied by a sword, onto the floor, attempting to push himself back up into an easily defensive position. He looked beseechingly into the eyes of the Elf-guard, who narrowed his own eyes aggressively in return.

"Let me go," Pippin strained as the pointed edge of the blade descended closer. "Let us go."

The Elf made no response to this, save vague confusion mixed with perhaps consideration at the appeal appearing on his face, though he did not move the sword away. At least, not of his own accord.

Suddenly, the Elf spun violently to the side, falling over, and Pippin found his burden lifted. He leaped to his feet, looking down in incomprehension at the Elf, who now had his hand at his side as if the wind had been knocked out of him. 

"Come on!" a familiar voice said on his other side, and Pippin found himself staring into the eyes of the hobbit-servant who'd warned him of the attack. In his hand was the guard's sword that Aragorn had discarded under Norgeth's chair, though the hobbit held it awkwardly, at the handle but with the hilt out. Pippin realized that he'd smashed the heavy iron charm on the end of it into the Elf's left flank, causing him to veer off-balance, and the hobbit almost smiled at the thought of this unasked-for, but much welcome effort on the part of the servant.

"Come!" the hobbit-servant repeated, seizing Pippin's wrist and dragging him towards the front door, as the guard was already showing signs of recovery. Pippin struggled a bit as he was pulled, resisting but not knowing which direction to resist in. The rest of the fellowship was scattered about the room.

"No, wait," Pippin said. "We can't--"

His words were suddenly cut off by an odd sound, like the falling of rain, coming from back down the prison stairs. Pippin froze, as did everyone else on the upper level, and they turned to see the guards that had been locked away running up the stairs, towards them.

They halted as they all reached ground-level, and one of the leaders of the pack came forward more, a bloody arrow in his hands and distress in his face. He looked around in alarm and sadness at the other guards in the room, speaking quickly to them in their Elvish dialect, holding up the soiled projectile for them to see. Pippin, of course, could not understand what was said at that time, but he managed to grasp one word…_Norgeth_.

The guards stood gaping as the messenger stopped speaking, then looked at each other in shock, in fear, in sorrow, in confusion, and it was their expressions that told Pippin what they'd been told; they had found out that Norgeth was dead.

"_Now, now_!" the hobbit at Pippin's side insisted hoarsely, tugging at Pippin's arm more insistently as the guards stood still, momentarily shaken. "All of you, come on, _now_!"

***

The fellowship ran as far and as fast as they could now, ignoring injuries and weariness. They ran out of the building and down the side, then out the back of the ring of trees surrounding the structure, into thick grass (that seemed to be a continuation of the field they had passed through in front), across a shallow stream at the other side of it, into another cluster of forest trees and out of them, finally stopping on a well-worn dirt path alongside a great formation of rock, almost like a small mountain.

"This is a mistake," Frodo mumbled, panting and holding a stitch in his side as he came through the forest, up behind Aragorn. "They'll come after us."

"No, they won't," the hobbit who had saved Pippin spoke up, emerging breathlessly from the trees behind them. "If it's true, what they said--that Norgeth is dead--then, they will not continue in this way. They merely followed Norgeth."

"That's all? They seemed awfully resolved," It was Merry who said this, as Frodo had come fully onto the path now, and didn't seem able to take his eyes off of Legolas, staring bashfully at him with a visible sense of calm. 

Legolas had positioned himself against the rock's base, and was facing the others, looking around at them with relief to be there, alive and with them, but also still minor uncertainty about all that had just gone on (though he could pretty well work it out in his mind), and slight sadness at the recall of Lord Frodo, and his Sam. What had become of them? What would they think, from his bodily vanishing? What would they do now?

"You might seem resolved too, with someone like Norgeth ordering you around. He didn't need something like the Ruling Ring, to assert himself," the servant replied good-naturedly. "Trust me, once those Elves overcome the shock of the news, they'll probably disperse."

"As we should, now," a female voice sounded from the edge of the forest. "Come, Geriber."

The hobbit nodded obligingly to the female escaped hobbit-servant who had suddenly begun loitering skittishly by the trees. Geriber looked back at the fellowship briefly, smiling candidly before he ran off back towards the girl.

"Good luck!" he called back to them as he followed her back into the woods.

Aragorn looked after the retreating halflings for a fleeting moment, then turned his head swiftly back to the others, specifically to the one he had seen taken away in an instant, the one he had thought he might never see again. A smile of weariness and hopeful turmoil appeared on his face, as he gazed at the Elf, and slowly, it was returned.

"Legolas," he breathed. "Are you alright? What happened?"

****

The End

don't die: Clever screenname. :o) Thanks for the review, and I hope that you enjoyed this last part of the story. I, too, didn't actually want Legolas dead, as you saw. Thanks again!

Enigma Jade: ::pulls EJ back up from the cliff:: It's alright now! Everything's alright now. Lego's back. :o) Thanks for your review, and all of the reviews you've posted for this story. I've loved them all. :o)

Moonfairy2000: Breathe, Moonfairy, it's alright! I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so much, and I hope you like this final chapter as much as the rest. Thank you for the reviews, they were great! :o)

LatestSin: Heh, yup. You (and I) don't want him to die, so he doesn't. :o) Thanks for the nice review, I hope you enjoyed the story!

Daphne aka gapofrohan: Nice new screenname! Thanks for the review, and all of your great reviews. BTW, I saw that you put a plug for my story in your bio. That's so nice of you! Thanks again! :o)

bOOgie: Hehe, I guess this story turned out to be semi-interactive after all (either that, or you and the others have fabulous intuition. :o) ) I'm glad you've started liking cliffhangers (They can be fun, can't they? :o) ) And yeah, parallel universes and AU's are awesome, I agree. Hope you liked this conclusion, and whatever meal your Leggy has prepared (lucky you! :o) ) Thanks for this review, and all of your reviews. They've been wonderful to read!

Marissa and the WWP (and Caitlyn!): ::grins as she opens the candy and ice cream and pulls out a spoon:: Hehe, thanks! Don't worry, I've given Norgeth the sign (along with the rest of those bandages). Thanks for the great, fun reviews. I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and reading your reviews. Thanks again!! 

I would like to thank Enigma Jade, Ecri, tiggivon, Europa, Cheysuli, Raider314, Dragoneyes, Marissa and the WWP, Crystal Millenium, Jaid Skywalker, Daphne aka gapofrohan, Rei.K, ZonyBone, DansGirl4eva, bOOgie, Moonfairy2000, shauna, don't die, and LatestSin, for reviewing my story, and I want to thank everyone, whether or not they reviewed, for taking the time to read my story. Thanks, you guys are the best! :o)

PS: I've acquired some muses (thanks to Marissa :o) ), who have laid a very interesting challenge before me, for a bunch of LOTR stories, that will be a series. Hopefully, I'll have the first story up here soon. The first one will be a stand-alone piece, called "Overture". 

Thanks again, everyone! Hope to see you all next story! :o)

Leafy )--


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